LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Shelf B-4/ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Memoeies. 



A RECORD OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCE AND 

ADVENTURE DURING FOUR 

YEARS OF WAR. 



BY |/^ 

MRS. FANNIE A. BEERS. 



^ APR 24 1888 V/ 



PKESS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

PHILADELPHIA. 

1888. 






^^ 



Copyright, 1888, by Fannie A. Beers. 



TO 



"THE BOYS WHO WOEE THE GEAY," 



WHETHER THE LOFTY OR THE LOWLY; 

EQUALLY TO THE SURVIVING HEROES WHO STAND BEFORE THE WORLD IN THE LIGHT 

OF A GLORY NEVER SURPASSED, AND TO THE MARTYRS WHOSE PATRIOT 

BLOOD AND SACRED GRAVES HAVE FOREVER SANCTIFIED 

THE LAND THEY LOVED, 



THESE "MEMORIES" 



ARE RESPECTFULLY AND LOVINGLY DEDICATED. 



}' 



PEEFAOE. 



For several years my friends among Confederate sol- 
diers have been urging me to " write up" and publish 
what I know of the war. By personal solicitation and 
by letter this subject has been brought before me and 
placed in the light of a duty which I owe to posterity. 
Taking this view of it, I willingly comply, glad that I 
am permitted to stand among the many " witnesses" who 
shall establish "the truth," proud to write myself as 
one who faithfully served the defenders of the Cause 
which had and has my heart's devotion. I have tried 
to give a faithful record of my experiences, to " noth- 
ing extenuate nor aught set down in malice," and I 
have told the truth, but not always the whole truth. A 
few of these "Memories" were originally written for 
the Southern Bivouac, and are here republished be- 
cause my book would have been incomplete without 
them. 

I am very inexperienced in the business of making 
books, but relying with confidence upon the leniency of 
my friends, and feeling sure that I have no enemy who 
will savagely rejoice that I have written a book, I make 
the venture. 

1* 6 



CONTENTS. 



PAQB 

Introductory 9 

PAR.X I. 

CHAPTER I. 
Alpha 25 

CHAPTER 11. 
Alabama 52 

CHAPTER III. 

Buckner Hospital, Gainesville, Alabama 59 

CHAPTER lY. 
Ringgold 70 

CHAPTER V. 
Newnan, Georgia 113 

CHAPTER YI. 
Omega 171 

CHAPTER YII. 
Confederate Women 199 

CHAPTER YIII. 

An Incident of the Battle of the Wilderness 223 

CHAPTER IX. 
Eenner's Louisiana Battery 227 

CHAPTER X. 
*< Bob Wheat" 244 

7 



8 CONTENTS. 

PART II. 

FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 

CHAPTEE I. PACT 

ITelly 246 

OHAPTEK 11. 
Brave Boys 275 

CHAPTER III. 
The Young Color-Bearer 279 

CHAPTEE lY.' 
Bravery honored by a Eoe • • . . 285 

CHAPTEE Y. 
Sally's Eide 289 

CHAPTEE YI. 
High Price for Needles and Thread 293 

CHAPTEE YI I. 
Bunny 296 

CHAPTEE YIII. 
Beauregard 300 



PAFiT III. 

AFTER TWENTY YEARS. 

CHAPTEE I. 
"My Boys" 306 

CHAPTEE II. 

The Confederate Eeunion at Dallas 312 

CHAPTEE III. 
Camp Nichols 319 

CHAPTEE lY. 
The March of Time 324 

CHAPTEE Y. 
A Woman's Eecord 329 



Il!fTEODIIOTOKT. 



Among those who early espoused the Southern Cause, 
few, perhaps, were more in earnest than my husband 
and myself. Our patriotism was at the very outset put 
to a crucial test. The duties of a soldier and a civilian 
became incompatible. Being in ill health, it was thought 
best that I should go to my mother at the North for 
awhile. My husband, after preliminary service with the 
"Minute Men" and the State troops, as a member of 
Company A, Crescent Eifles, was, with this company, 
regularly mustered into the Confederate service in 
April, 1861, and left for Pensacola, Florida, where the 
Crescent Eifles, with the Louisiana Guards, Orleans 
Cadets, Shreveport Guards, Terrebonne Eifles, and 
Grivot Guards, were organized into the Dreux Bat- 
talion. It was then supposed that " the affair" would 
be " settled in ninety days." 

From my house of refuge I watched eagerly the 
course of events, until at last all mail facilities were cut 
off, and I was left to endure the horrors of suspense as 
well as the irritating consciousness that, although so- 
journing in the home of my childhood, I was an alien, 
an acknowledged " Eebel," and as such an object of sus- 
picion and dislike to all save my immediate family. 
Even these, with the exception of my precious mother, 
were bitterly opposed to the South and Secession. 
From mother I received unceasing care, thorough sym- 
pathy, surpassing love. During this troubled time a 

9 



10 INTRODUCTORY. 

little babe was born to me, — a tiny babe, — who only just 
opened its dark eyes upon the troubled face of its 
mother to close them forever. 

The guns of Sumter, reverberating throughout the 
North, " stirred a fever in the blood of age" and youth 
alike. Fanatics raved more wildly than ever, while 
those who had hitherto been lukewarm hastened to 
swell the cry of horror and fury which everywhere 
arose at this "insult to our flag." This feeling found 
vent in acts of oppression, met by prompt and deter- 
mined resistance, and thus was inaugurated the fratri- 
cidal strife which was for four years to desolate the land. 

Eumors of an engagement in Yirginia intensified my 
suspense until it seemed unbearable. One day I re- 
ceived a kindly warning from an old friend concerning 
a small Confederate flag which had been sent to me by 
my husband. It was a tiny silken afl'air, which I kej^t 
in my prayer-book. This harmless possession was mag- 
nified by the people of the town into an immense rebel 
banner, which would eventually float over my mother's 
house. I had still a few friends whose temperate counsel 
had hitherto protected me. The note referred to warned 
me that while I retained possession of the flag I might 
at any time expect the presence of a mob. I would not 
have destroyed my treasure for worlds, and how to con- 
ceal it became a subject of constant thought. The dis- 
covery one day of a jar of " perpetual paste" in mother's 
secretary suggested an idea which was at once carried 
out. Applying this strongly adhesive mixture to one 
side of the flag, I pasted it upon the naked flesh just 
over my heart. One morning the mail brought certain 
news of a Confederate victory at Big Bethel. This 
so exasperated the people that on their way from the 
post-office an excited crowd halted under my window, 
crying out, "Where's that rebel woman?" "Let's have 



INTRODUCTORY, H 

that flag," " Show your colors," etc. Carried away by 
intense excitement, I threw open the blinds, and, waving 
the newspaper above my head, shouted, " Hurrah ! Hur- 
rah for Big Bethel! Hurrah for the brave rebels!" A 
perfect howl of rage arose from below, and greater evil 
might have befallen but for the timely appearance of 
the venerable village doctor, who now rode hastily in 
among the excited men, and, standing up in his buggy, 
cried out, " Friends, she is but a frail, defenceless woman. 
Be thankful if your morning's work be not her death." 
Slowly and sullenly the crowd dispersed, while the good 
doctor hastily ascended to my chamber. I lay with 
fevered cheeks and burning eyes among the pillows 
where my mother had placed me. The terrible excite- 
ment under which I labored forbade all blame or any 
allusion to my act of imprudence. I was soothed and 
tenderly cared for until, under the influence of a sedative, 
I fell asleep. 

Early next morning the doctor appeared at my bed- 
side. Meantime a change had come over me. I seemed 
to have lost the nervous excitability of a girl and to have 

become a woman, full of courage and hope. Dr. 

regarded me steadily for a moment; then, — " Ah ! better 
this morning? That's my brave girl." Meeting his 
gaze fully, I replied, '' I shall try henceforth to be brave, 
as befits the wife of a soldier." A frown appeared 
upon the doctor's brow. Tenderly placing his hand 
upon my head, he said, "My child, I fear your courage 
will soon be put to the test. Your own imprudence has 
greatly incensed the town people. Danger menaces 
you, and through you, your mother. Fortunately, the 
friends of your childhood still desire to protect you ; but 
your only safety lies in giving up the rebel flag which 
it is said you possess. Give it to me, Fannie, and I will 
destroy it before their eyes, and thus avert the threat- 



12 INTRODUCTORY. 

ened danger." I only smiled, as I replied : " Dr. , 

since the rebel flag has existed, I have cherished it in 
my heart of hearts. You may search the house over ; 
you will find no flag but the one I have here/' placing 
my hand on my heart. The good man had known me 
from childhood, and he could not doubt me. He ques- 
tioned no further, but took his leave, promising to use 
his influence with the incensed villagers. They, how- 
ever, were not so easily convinced. They had been 
wrought up to a state of frenzied patriotism, and de- 
clared they would search the house where the obnoxious 
flag was supposed to be. Dire threats of vengeance were 
heard on every side. At last a committee was appointed 
to wait upon ^Hhe traitress'' and again demand the sur- 
render of the flag. It was composed of gentlemen who, 
though thorough and uncompromising "Union men," 
were yet well known to me, and were anxious, if pos- 
sible, to shield me. They were admitted to the room, 
where I calmly awaited them. I reiterated the assertion 
made to the doctor, so calmly, and with such apparent 
truth, that they were staggered. But they had come to 
perform a duty, and they meant to succeed. They con- 
vinced me that the danger to myself and to the house 
of my mother was real and imminent, but I only re- 
peated my assertions, though my heart throbbed pain- 
fully as I saw the anxiety and trouble in mother's face. 
Suddenly I remembered that I had in my possession 
a paper which, just before all mail communication had 
ceased between the North and South, had been sent to 
me for the purpose of protection. It was simply a cer- 
tificate of my husband's membership and good standing 
in a Masonic lodge, and had a seal affixed. As I called 
for the portfolio, all eyes brightened with expectation of 
seeing at last the " rebel flag." Drawing forth from its 
envelope the fateful document, I said, "I was told to 



INTRODUCTORY. 13 

use this only in dire extremity; it seems to me that 
such a, time is at hand. If there be any virtue in Ma- 
sonry, let it now protect me and the roof which is at 
present my only shelter !" 

Thus speaking, I handed the paper to one whom I 
knew to be a prominent Mason. The certificate was duly 
examined and, after a short conference, returned. " We 
will do our best," said the spokesman of the party, and all 
withdrew. The day passed without further trouble, and 
as I sank to sleep that night there came to me a feeling 
of safety and protection, which was indeed comforting. 

Weeks passed, during which I slowly but surely 
gathered the strength and health necessary to carry 
out the resolution lately formed, to join my husband, 
and, if might be, to labor for the cause so loved. The 
unceasing ministrations of my mother strengthened alike 
soul and body, but as I read in that dear face a love and 
devotion which could never fail, my heart felt many a 
bitter pang at the thought of the parting that must be. 

One evening, having found the courage necessary to 
tell mother of my plans and hopes, to my surprise the 
noble woman heard me calmly. " I had expected this," 
she said. " It is right — you must go ; but, oh ! not now 
— not soon," and in uncontrollable agitation she left 
the room. Two days later the subject was resumed. 
Ways and means were discussed. The mother's face 
grew paler as that of her child brightened and glowed 
with returning health and hope. She pleaded to keep 
my little boy, but fearing lest his young heart might 
receive, among the enemies of Southern liberty, impres- 
sions which could not be effaced, I decided that he must 
not be left. 

Upon the eve of the battle of Manassas we started 
on our hazardous journey. The utmost secrecy had 
been observed. No baggage could be allowed. My 

2 



14 INTRODUCTORY, 

thoughtful mother converted quite a large sum into gold, 
which, stitched into a broad belt, was sewed around my 
waist. One bright morning mother and I, with my bo}^, 
seated ourselves in the carriage as if for our usual drive. 
There was no leave-taking, no appearance of anything 
unusual. Once on the road, we were rapidly driven to 
a railroad depot in a distant town ; there I took the 
train, while my poor mother returned homeward alone. 

Arrived in Baltimore, we found ourselves among those 
whose hearts were filled with ardent love of " the 
Cause," and bitter hatred for the soldiers who had, in 
spite of their heroic resistance, so lately passed through 
the streets of the city on their way to subjugate the 
South. " The rebel" was enthusiastically received. All 
were ready to assist her, but at this juncture it seemed 
impossible to pass the Federal lines. 

The great battle of Manassas had been decided. The 
wildest excitement prevailed. Flying soldiers were 
everywhere. Almost every hour the sound of fife and 
drum was heard, as shattered regiments and decimated 
battalions marched through the streets. Although all 
expression of feeling, among the citizens, was sternly 
repressed, the mask of sullen indiiference was known to 
be hut a mask. Hearts beneath were bounding with 
pride and joy and hope. Almost without exception, 
houses were closed and devoid of all appearance of life. 
Yet behind those closely-shut blinds women embraced 
each other with tempestuous joy, or paced the floor in 
uncontrollable agitation, or knelt in earnest prayer, 
mingling thanksgivings with agonized petitions for 
those whose fate was yet unknown. Mothers, sisters, 
wives, strove, with trembling lips, to comfort each other, 
bidding the voice of patriotism be heard above the 
" tempest of the heart." In the midst of all this ex- 



INTROD UCTOR Y. 15 

citement my interests were never lost sight of. Secret 
meetings were held, and various plans discussed. At 
last, one day a note was received inviting me to spend 
a social evening at the house of " one of the faithful." 
A casual observer would have discovered nothing more 
than a few lines of invitation, still the paper bore a 
private mark which made my heart beat with hope. 

Arrived at the house indicated, where seemed to be 
only an ordinary gathering of friends, I found it difficult 
to appear at ease, and watched eagerly for developments. 
Not a sign or a word was given, however, until after 
supper, when the ladies repaired (as usual) to the dress- 
ing-room up-stairs to rearrange their toilets. Instead 
of entering with the rest, the hostess, by a slight pres- 
sure of the hand, indicated to me that I was desired to 
pass on and up a second flight of stairs. 

We did so unnoticed, and soon entered a small room 
in the third story, where were found waiting a few 
friends, among them a captain and clerk of a steamboat 
which was expected to leave in three days for Newport 
News with United States troops to reinforce Colonel 
Phelps at that point. Here appeared to be a chance, but 
a hazardous one, since the officers of the boat must not 
evince any interest in their passenger, and could afford 
no assistance or protection among the rough soldiers 
who would crowd every available foot of room. They 
must appear as good Union men, engaged in transport- 
ing troops to assist in quelling " the rebellion." In case 
of any rough treatment of the "rebel woman," they 
could only appeal to the officers in charge of the troops, 
and the result of such an appeal, in the present state of 
feeling, would be doubtful. The boat was not a pas- 
senger steamer, and had only two or three small state- 
rooms, occupied by its officers. These might be required 
by the military commanders. Instantly, and unhesitat- 



16 INTRODUCTORY. 

ingly, I decided to make the trial. We ladies then de- 
scended to the parlor, while one by one our friends were 
conveyed out of the house. 

A new difficulty at once arose; a friend had applied to 
General Scott for a pass — unsuccessfully. The precious 
hours were passing, and failure seemed imminent. This 
difficulty was increased by the fact that I had undertaken 
the charge of Jemmy Little, a boy of ten, who, having 
lingered too long at school in Baltimore, had been cut 
off from his family in Norfolk, and being desperately 
unhappy, had implored to be included in the plans formed 
for me. He was to pass as my brother, and, having once 
promised, I could not disappoint him, especially as his 
waking hours were s]3ent by my side, his hand often 
nestling into my own, his large wistful eyes questioning 
my face, as if dreading to find there some evidence of 
hesitation or change of purpose. 

One day passed. At evening, as I was anxiously 
pacing my room, my hostess hurriedly entered, exclaim- 
ing, in agitation, " Your brother awaits you in the draw- 
ing-room. I could not welcome him. I will not see him. 
Only for your sake would I allow a Federal soldier to 
cross my threshold ; but he is your brother ; go to him." 

Trembling with excitement, I descended to the parlor, 
where I found my brother, — a mere boy yet, — wearing 
the uniform of a Federal officer. 

"Sister!" " Charles!" each cried, and no further greet- 
ing passed between us. The boy stood with folded 
arms, looking proudly, yet tenderly, at me, his only 
sister, all the brave ardor of a soldier who believes in 
the cause he serves revealed in his handsome young face. 
I sank into a chair and covered my face, that I might 
shut out the sight which so pained me. The interview 
that followed was long. Finding that my brother not 
only approved the determination to join my husband, 



INTRODUCTORY. 17 

but was able and willing to assist in obtaining the neces- 
sary pass, I told him of my wish to have it in posses- 
sion by the next day, and received his promise to send 
it, if possible. He was going to " the front," and over- 
come by the thought that I might never see him again, 
I threw my arms around his neck, while tears fell fast 
upon the blue uniform, and so, with a last embrace, we 
parted. 

The pass, embracing " Mrs. Beers, brother, and child," 
was forthcoming next day, and the same afternoon I, 
with my boys, set forth unattended for the boat. No 
sign of recognition passed between the captain and our- 
selves as we were conducted to the upper deck, and 
seated under the awning. Soon the sound of drum 
and fife announced the approach of the troops. A regi- 
ment of blue-coated soldiers appeared on the wharf, and 
directly they marched on board. Witnessing their 
embarkation, I could not repress a feeling of extreme 
uneasiness, which increased as officers and men appeared 
on every side. They were so many: I was the only 
woman on the boat. Sitting motionless, with veil closely 
drawn, holding my boy on my lap, while poor Jemmy 
nestled close to my side (valiant in feeling, but of boyish 
appearance, and looking even smaller beside the tall 
soldiers), I hoped to pass unobserved, but soon after the 
boat left the wharf found myself subjected to rude stares 
and ruder remarks, and at last was forced to seek the 
clerk to beg that I might find shelter in one of the little 
state-rooms. All were taken by the officers, who seemed 
utterly indifferent to the forlorn condition of " Madam 
Eeb." At last the clerk (after a short consultation with 
one kindly-looking officer, who, however, seemed half 
ashamed of the kindness of heart which contrasted so 
finely with the rudeness of his comrades) led the way 
to a room below, — small, and close, hut a shelter. Here 
b 2* 



18 INTRODUCTORY. 

he placed us, having locked us in to prevent intrusion. 
The boys soon fell asleep, but I passed the night in 
listening to the ceaseless noises outside. 

Morning found the boat at Fortress Monroe, whence, 
after a short delay, she proceeded to Newport News. 

Under pretence of guarding well the " female rebel," 
the good clerk escorted us to the oflEicers' quarters. 
Here my pass was examined closely; many questions 
were asked and answered. Still, the result seemed doubt- 
ful ; means of transportation were wanting. The colonel 
in command was inclined to be suspicious and sternly un- 
sympathetic. While standing tremblingly before those 
whose adverse decision would, I knew, crush all my 
hopes, one of the officers espied around my neck a slender 
black chain, and demanded to know what it held. In- 
stantly hope returned : I drew from my bosom a small 
case enclosing the Masonic document before mentioned. 
As at my mother's house, it was examined and returned 
without comment. An hour later, however, a plentiful 
repast was set before us, after which a covered ambulance 
appeared, in which was placed for my comfort the only 
arm-chair the camp contained. Soon, attended by an 
officer and a guard of Federal soldiers, our little party 
entered upon the last stage of our journey to the Con- 
federate lines. 

The route lay amid scenes of desolation sadder than 
anything I had ever dreamed of. Fields, which a few 
short weeks before had given promise of a rich harvest, 
were laid waste. Here and there tiny columns of smoke 
arose from the smouldering ruins of once happy homes. 
The heat and dust were almost insufferable, but as the 
sun declined a cool breeze sprang up, and later a flood 
of moonlight clothed the landscape with a mystical 
beauty. It shone coldly on the few deserted homes 
which the hand of the destroyer had spared, and to me 



INTRODUCTORY, 19 

it seemed that its silvery rays were like the pale fingers 
of a mourner who places white wreaths upon the grave 
of love. In the soft wind I heard only moans and 
sighs. 

The children slept soundly in the straw at the bottom 
of the ambulance, and soon the steady, monotonous tramp 
of the guard lulled me also to rest. We approached the 
Confederate lines just at sunrise. A flag of truce was 
unfurled, and at once answered by an oflScer on picket- 
duty. A short parley ensued. At a word of command 
the Federal guard fell back and were replaced by Con- 
federates. A moment later, I, with my charges, de- 
scended, to be greeted with enthusiasm, tempered with 
the most chivalrous respect, by the " boys in gray," who 
proved to be members of the battalion to which my 
husband was attached, and who at once relieved my 
fears by assurances of his safety. It was a supreme 
moment, such as comes seldom in a lifetime, and yet a 
time for stern self-repression. 

The emotions of a heart at rest, after trials so sore, 
were too sacred to find expression. 

I gazed around me in silent ecstasy. It seemed to 
me that the sun had never shone so brightly, or on a 
scene so lovely. Noting the manly faces and noble 
bearing of those who wore the gray, I felt that the 
purple and ermine of kings could not have clothed them 
half so magnificently. And, oh ! how delicious and ap- 
petizing seemed "the rations," which, though simple, 
were served under those green trees with the earnest, 
genuine hospitality which is so well described by the 
term " Southern." 

The camp being several miles distant, nothing re- 
mained but to wait patiently for some means of trans- 
portation. It was near sunset when the loud singing of 
a negro driver was heard. Soon he appeared upon a 



20 INTRODUCTORY. 

novel conveyance, — a rough, unplaned board or two on 
wheels and drawn by a single ox. Unpromising as this 
^^ turnout" appeared, we were informed that it was a 
" Godsend," so we joyfully mounted the cart, a soldier 
being detailed to accompany us. My little son was made 
supremely happy by being invited to sit upon the lap 
of the driver, whose characteristic songs beguiled the 
way through the shadowy woods. "Within a few miles 
of camp the challenge of a sentry was heard ; half an 
hour later we found ourselves among the tents of the 
Dreux Battalion. 

My husband was " on guard," perhaps thinking sadly 
of his absent wife and boy, certainly never dreaming 
they were so near. As the ambulance drove into camp 
it was at once surrounded by soldiers, both officers and 
privates. As soon as my name was known, some one 
who evidently appreciated the situation rushed off in 
hot haste to notify and relieve the soldier most interested. 
Meantime a dozen hands clasped mine in kindly greet- 
ing. To whom they belonged I could not tell, for the 
dense shade shut out the moonlight, and seen by the 
light of the camp-fires, disguised as each one was in the 
rough garb of a soldier, my quondam city friends were 
quite unrecognizable. 

I will leave to the imagination of the reader the 
happy meeting between long-parted ones and the many 
caresses showered upon our child. 

I had expected nothing better than to spend the night 
in the ambulance or under a tent, and would have taken 
great pride in " camping out," but the chivalrous officers 
in command would not hear of such a plan. Their 
quarters (two rooms in a little log house) were instantly 
vacated, and I had scarcely descended from the vehicle 
when a negro man appeared, to bring a message. " De 
Major's compliments, mistis, and de room am ready. ^* 



INTRODUCTORY. 21 

I could not have been bidden to a luxurious apartment 
with more ceremony. 

The next morning the shrill sound of the fife and the 
drum beating the " reveille" aroused us, and we were up 
with the sun. 

The scene was entrancing; to me particularly so, 
for the white tents gleaming among the trees reminded 
me that I was among Southern soldiers. As they strode 
to and fro with martial air, fully armed and equipped to 
answer roll-call, or bent over the camp-fires preparing 
breakfast, it seemed to me that no such splendid soldiers 
were ever before seen. Several invitations to breakfast 
were received; that of the oflScers' mess, having been 
first, was accepted. 

Major came in person to escort his guests to a 

lovely spot near the cabin, where, under a large shady 
oak, upon a table of rough boards covered with a nice 
white cloth, a delicious meal was set, consisting of broiled 
chickens, omelet, fragrant coffee, buttermilk, corn bread, 
and batter-cakes. A likely young negro boy attended 
at table, industriously flourishing a green branch to keep 
away the flies, and seemingly delighted to show off his 
company manners. 

After breakfast I sat long upon the little gallery of 
the log cabin entertaining soldier visitors and enjoying 
the situation with all my heart. I soon discovered, how- 
ever, an air of sadness and restraint which was unac- 
countable until my husband told me of the death of the 
gallant Dreux, the first martyr of the war. Ah ! then 
I knew. Struggle as they might, their brave hearts were 
wrung with anguish, for their gallant leader had suc- 
cumbed to the only conqueror he ever knew. The im- 
passioned oratory that had never failed to fire the hearts 
of men was hushed forever. The ardent patriotism 
ever prompting to deeds of daring was now only a 



22 INTRODUCTORY. 

memory. The brilliant intellect and administrative abil- 
ity so early recognized, so highly valued, were lost to 
the Confederacy. 

I no longer wondered that manly brows were clouded, 
or that the eyes of soldiers moistened, as, even amidst 
pleasant conversation, a sudden remembrance of their loss 
overcame them. For them the memory of that death- 
scene was fresh. The echo of his last brave words had 
not yet died away: "Steady, boys, steady," as if he 
would have said, " Let not my fate appall ; still do your 
duty." 

Before the sun was high the ambulance reappeared to 
convey our party as far as Williamsburg, where young 
Little was to remain until he could hear from his father ; 
I and my boy were to go on to Richmond. My hus- 
band was granted a furlough of two days that he might 
escort his family as far as Williamsburg. As may be 
imagined, the ride was most delightful. Although often 
oppressed by thoughts of the parting hour so rapidly 
approaching, we were at times charmed into forgetful- 
ness, and keen enjoyment of the beautiful scenery and 
the incidents of the journey. I now, for the first time, 
began to use from my little store of gold and silver, and 
it proved the "open sesame" to much enjoyment. 
Watermelons and other fruit, roasting ears, buttermilk, 
etc., were purchased without stint, also a chicken. At 
noon the little party camped in a grove by the road- 
side, where my soldier-husband proudly showed off his 
new attainments in the way of cooking. The dinner 
was pronounced "just splendid" by the appreciative 
guests. Our boy having gorged himself, fell asleep upon 
the grass ; the negro driver was sent off to buy a few 
dainties to send back to friends in camp, and the two so 
lately reunited — so soon to part — enjoyed for the first 
time an uninterrupted talk relating to the adventures 



INTRODUCTORY. 23 

that each had met with since our parting in New Orleans. 
I unfolded my plans for the future, receiving the full 
permission and sympathy of my husband. 

Soon after the journey was resumed two horsemen 
appeared on the road coming from the direction of 
Williamsburg. I was quite unprepared to recognize a 
Confederate officer of high rank in either of the riders 
who now approached, as neither were very handsomely 
uniformed. 

The one who most attracted my attention appeared of 
middle age, was rather stout, of florid complexion, and 
(as I thought) looked very cross. He wore a sort of 
fancy jacket or roundabout, profusely trimmed with 
gold lace. 

" There is General Magruder I" exclaimed my husband, 
and, as the officers came^near, saluted. Bringing the 
ambulance to a halt with an imperious gesture, the 
general sharply questioned him as to his absence from 
camp, his name, command, destination, length of time 
he expected to be absent, etc. I was then introduced, 
and began to express my pleasure at the meeting, etc. 
The grim visage of the general did not relax. My 
pleasant talk was cut short by another question, this 
time, of importance. I then found myself subjected to 
a series of questions so searching that all I had seen or 
heard while passing through the enemy's lines was im- 
parted to G-eneral Magruder before I quite realized the 
situation. 

What woman, denied the pleasure of talking, would 
not have felt and expressed, as did my discomfited self, 
great indignation in view of a deprivation so severe. 
But upon being reminded of the heavy responsibility 
resting upon the mind and heart of the patriot who 
could not withdraw his attention from the great and 
all-absorbing interests committed to his guidance long 



24 INTRODUCTORY. 

enough to think of, much less to practise, the amenities 
of life, I felt ashamed of my hasty anger, and remem- 
bered only that I had been permitted to see and converse 
with the hero of the battle of Bethel, the first Confed- 
erate victory of the war. 

At Williamsburg, under the roof of the queer, old- 
fashioned, but comfortable inn, excellent accommodations 
were found, and here the soldier partook heartily of the 
" square meals" which he knew were his last for many 
a day. 

A few hours of happiness was all tbat could be ac- 
corded to us. A battle seemed imminent. My husband 
must return to his post. I, with my little boy, proceeded 
to Eichmond, where unbounded kindness and hospitality 
awaited me. 

Here began the realization of the dream which had 
haunted me while yet compelled to linger among the 
foes of the South. Joining at once the noble army 
of women who untiringly ministered to the sick and 
wounded, I entered upon the performance of a vow to 
devote myself to this work if only the opportunity were 
accorded me. 



MEMORIES. 



PA.RT I. 

CHAPTEE I. 

ALPHA. 

Richmond in 1861-62. 

Who that witnessed and shared the wild excitement 
which, upon the da3'S immediately following the victory 
at Manassas, throbbed and pulsated throughout the 
crowded capital of the Southern Confederacy can ever 
forget ? 

Men were beside themselves with joy and pride, — 
drunk with glory. 

By night the city blazed with illuminations, even the 
most humble home setting up its beacon-light, — a sure 
guide to where loyal, devoted hearts were throbbing 
with patriotism. 

In the general rejoicing the heavy price of victory 
was for a time unheeded. But Eichmond had sent forth 
to battle her best beloved, and, alas! many were the 
" unreturning braves." 

The dazzling light fell upon many dwellings only to 

reveal the utter darkness that reigned without and 

within. No need to ask why. All knew that in each 

darkened home stricken hearts filled with an agony of 

B 3 25 



26 MEMORIES. 

desolation struggled in vain to remember that they were 
mothers and wives of heroes, but could not yet lift their 
eyes from the ghastly wounds — the bloody graves of 
their dead. 

Ah ! the lovely, joyous, hopeful, patriotic days of that 
summer of 1861. The Confederate gray was then a 
thing of beauty, — the outer garb of true and loyal souls. 
Every man who wore it became ennobled in the eyes of 
every woman. These boys in gray were strangers to 
none. Their uniform was a passport to every heart and 
every home. Broad Street was thronged with them all 
day long. 

Officers of all grades rode hither and thither, or 
congregated on the steps of the hotels. Squads of sol- 
diers promenaded, gayly chatting with acquaintances 
whom they chanced to meet. Occasionally the sound 
of drum and fife or the fuller music of a brass band 
would herald the appearance of a company or regiment, 
perhaps just arrived from some distant State, eager to 
reach the front. On more retired streets, at their homes, 
humble or luxurious, sweet young girls welcomed with 
kindly words and sunny smiles officers and private sol- 
diers, extending equal courtesy to both. The elegant 
mansions on Clay Street and elsewhere were never 
without soldier guests. Impromptu meals were served 
whenever needed. In elegant dining-rooms stately ser- 
vants supplied the Wants of soldiers. No one asked who 
they were, whence they came. They were Confederate 
soldiers — that was quite enough. 

In the cool drawing-rooms pleasant chat beguiled the 
summer hours, sweet songs floated out upon the air, or 
the more stirring notes of " Dixie" or " The Bonnie Blue 
Flag," played with a spirit and vim which electrified 
every listener. 

If these warriors who lingered here could have chosen 



ALPHA. 27 

for themselves, they would never have thus quietly 
rested upon the laurels won at Manassas. Contrary to 
their wishes, they had been recalled from the pursuit of 
the flying foe and consigned to temporary inactivity. 

As the new companies or regiments came in they were 
marched into camp in the suburds or temporarily pro- 
vided for in the immense tobacco warehouses which were 
numerous all over the city. Passing one of these, at 
every window appeared laughing or discontented faces 
of soldiers newly arrived, full of ardor, ready and expect- 
ing to perform prodigies of valor, yet ignominiously 
shut up within four brick walls, with a sentinel guarding 
every door. 

The evening drills at the camp-grounds were attended 
by hundreds of ladies. So enthusiastic were these, so 
full of pride and admiration for the braves who had come 
to defend their homes and themselves, so entirely in ac- 
cord with the patriotic spirit which burned in every 
manly heart, that not a soldier, no matter how humble, 
came near or passed before a group of these animated 
beauties who was not literally bathed in the radiance of 
kindly smiles, — transformed into a demigod by the light 
of gloriously flashing eyes. 

iNTo pen can do justice to the scenes I would fain 
describe. Language is quite inadequate to express the 
feeling which then lived and had its being in the hearts 
of all Southern women towards the heroes who had 
risen up to defend the liberties of the South. Exalted 
far above mere sentiment, holding no element of vanity 
or selfishness, — idolatrous, if you will, yet an idolatry 
which inspired the heart, nerved the hand, and made 
*any sacrifice possible. No purer patriotism ever foiind 
lodgment in human breast. No more sacred fire was 
ever kindled by human hands on any altar than the 
impulse which imperatively called men from the peaceful 



28 MEMORIES. 

avocations of life to repel the threatened invasion of 
their homes and firesides. They were actuated by no 
spirit of hatred or revenge (theri). They sought not to 
despoil, to lay waste. But, when justice was dethroned, 
her place usurped by the demon of hate and prejudice, 
when the policy of coercion and invasion was fully de- 
veloped, with one heart and voice the South cried aloud, 
"Stand! The ground's your own, my braves." 

Swift as a meteor, yet clear and unwavering, flashed 
and burned the beacon-light first kindled in South Caro- 
lina. A million torches lighted at this flame were borne 
aloft throughout the Southland. 

And now the invader had been met and foiled in his 
first attempt to conquer and desolate the homes of Yir- 
ginia. Who can wonder that their brave defenders were 
the idols of a grateful people ? Their valor, having been 
fully tested, had far surpassed the expectations of the 
most sanguine. "Hope told a flattering tale." Alas I 
too flattering, for the confldence begotten by this first 
success inspired a contempt for the foe quite un- 
deserved. 

Meanwhile, the summer sun still brightened the un- 
harmed capitol. The summer wind still bore aloft on 
the dome in Capitol Square the flag of the new Confeder- 
acy, the " stars and bars." Here, after sunset and in 
the moonlight, came young men and maidens, matrons 
and children. Old men, too, who, baring their silvery 
heads to the cool breeze, gazed upward at the bonnie 
flag, with a look half triumphant, half sad ; for the love 
of the " star-spangled banner" had grown with their 
growth and strengthened with their strength, and it had 
been hard to tear it from their hearts. 

To young eyes the new flag seemed an emblem of 
glory. Young hearts glowed with pride as often as they 
looked upon it. The story of the eventful hour when it 



ALPHA. 29 

first replaced the '• stars and stripes" and floated over 
the capitol building in full view of the whole city, hailed 
by acclamations from many thousand voices, is still told 
with pride by the citizens of Eichmond. 

The moment it was known that Yirginia had passed 
the ordinance of secession, the cheering, enthusiastic 
crowd which had for hours surrounded Mechanics' 
Institute, made a rush for the State-House to " haul 
down" the old flag, and run up the '•' stars and bars." 
Upon making the attempt, it was found impossible to 
move the United States flag, some one having either' 
nailed or driven it with staples to the stafl'. Two boys, 
burning with zeal, started for the cupola to cut loose the 
flag. One of these, although a lad of eighteen, was a 
member of the Eichmond Howitzers. Hoping to out- 
strip the other, he climbed hand over hand up the light- 
ning-rod. Just as he reached the goal of his ambition, 
however, the staples securing the rod pulled out and the 
boy was left swaying back and forth in mid-air, while 
the crowd upon the top of the capitol and on the ground 
below looked on in horror. The lightning-rod was one 
of the old-fashioned sort, and more than an inch in 
diameter. One after another the staples gave way under 
the weight. The rod swayed gently back and forth as 
if uncertain which way to fall, but finally lurching to- 
wards the up-town side. Every one expected that the 
lad would be so disconcerted and appalled when he 
struck the edge of the roof, that he would be unable to 
look out for his own safety. One of the party resolved 
to attempt a rescue, although by so doing his own life 
would be endangered. Throwing himself flat on the 
roof like a bat, he slid down headforemost to the gutter, 
which, fortunately, was very wide. Placing himself on 
his back in this gutter so as to be able to arrest the other 
poor boy in his fall, he waited until the lightning-rod 

3* . 



30 MEMORIES. 

struck the roof, then called out loudly, "Let go; I'll 
catch you." The boy obeyed, and as he slipped down 
the roof in an almost unconscious condition, his rescuer 
in the gutter grasped and held him until he recovered 
his self-possession, when both pulled off their shoes and 
climbed the steep roof to the skylight. Both boys were 
gallant soldiers, but perhaps neither was ever again in 
greater danger than when excess of patriotism cost the 
one that hazardous ride on the lightning-rod, the other 
to assume the equally dangerous but noble position of 
rescuer. 

Both are still living, — veterans now. One, occupying 
a position of honor and of public trust, is a personal 
friend of the writer. 

To me the Confederate flag was an object of profound 
love and passionate devotion. It represented hopes that 
I thought could never fail, possibilities so glorious that 
imagination was dazzled. I used to go to the square 
before sunrise, leading my little boy, trying vainly to 
make him understand and share in some degree my own 
enthusiasm, but instead he only busied himself in trying 
to steal near enough to pounce upon one of the many 
little birds flitting from spray to spray with happy songs. 
Approaching the beautiful monument where the statues 
are so lifelike as to appear real compasions, sentient 
and cognizant of one's presence, I chose always a seat 
where I could gaze upon the face of Patrick Henry, 
recalling his stirring words, trying to imagine what he 
w^ould have thought and said noio, and almost daring to 
wish that soul of fire might come, if only for a moment, 
to animate the cold form ; that the silent lips might 
speak, the eyes look upward to where the breeze of 
morning stirred the sacred flag which my own heart 
saluted. Lingering thus until the first rays of the 
sun canie to glorify its waving folds, I drank in deep 



ALPHA. 31 

draughts of patriotism and love for the holy cause, 
sweet, inspiring, elevating; a tonic powerful and last- 
ing in its effects, bracing mind and soul to persevere in 
the course I had marked out for myself, to tread unfal- 
teringly a path beset by difficulties then undreamed of. 
Not long afterward the capitol square became forever 
sacred to Southern hearts ; for here, standing upon the 
steps of the beautiful monument, beneath the bronze 
statue of George Washington, the first President of the 
Southern Confederacy took upon himself the solemn vows 
of office, and at the same time the stirring airs of " Dixie" 
and " The Bonnie Blue Flag" received the stamp of 
nationality. Ah ! then how overwhelming the applause. 
But no one dreamed of a time in the far future when 
the Southern Confederacy should have become a thing 
of the past; of a time when the first faint notes of 
" Dixie" would have power to sway the hearts of thou- 
sands, to turn quiet crowds into excited, surging masses 
of men who would rend the air with cheers and the dear 
old "rebel yell," of women who, unable to control their 
feelings, would testify by applauding hands, waving 
handkerchiefs, and streaming eyes how precious were 
the memories awakened. 

One moonlight evening I stood again before the statue 
of that grand patriot and statesman, Patrick Henry. My 
companions were Mrs. Frances Grawthmey, of Richmond, 
and Commodore Matthew F. Maury, a man whom the 
scientific world delighted to honor, and of whom it may 
be well said, " We ne'er shall look upon his like again." 
When Virginia cast her fortunes with the Southern 
Confederacy, he held a distinguished position under the 
United States G-overnment. Had he sought self-aggran- 
dizement, renown, the fullest recognition of valuable 
services to the Government, the way was open, the 
prospect dazzling. But he was not even tempted. Be- 



32 MEMORIES. 

loved voices called him, — the voices of love and duty. 
He listened, obeyed, laying at the feet of the new Con- 
federacy as loyal a heart as ever beat, — a resplendent 
genius, the knowledge which is power. 

In the days of my childhood I had known Captain 
Maury, and had been taught to revere him. When we 
met in Eichraond, Commodore Maury was still my friend 
and mentor. His kindly ofiices were mine whenever 
needed, and his care followed me through all vicissi- 
tudes, until, after many months, the varying fortunes 
of war separated us, never, alas ! to meet again in this 
world. 

On the evening referred to above, Mrs. Gawthmey and 
myself, escorted by Commodore Maury, passed through 
the square on our way to the hotel, where we expected 
to meet a brilliant circle of distinguished Southerners. 
Arrived in front of the monument, we paused involun- 
tarily. The same thoughts which had before come to me 
seemed to possess all our minds. Mrs. Gawthmey re- 
marked, " If Patrick Henry had been living, I reckon 
Virginia would have stepped out of the Union side by 
side with South Carolina." " Well," replied Commodore 
Maury, "he would have acted as he thought. There 
would have been no ' pros and cons,' and his irresistible 
eloquence would have carried all before it." Then bar- 
ing his head, while the moonlight seemed to glorify his 
grand intellectual countenance, he repeated a portion of 
that grand oration of Mr. Henry ending, " Give me lib- 
erty or give me death." As these immortal words fell 
from his lips all remained silent, though wrought up to 
the highest pitch of patriotic excitement. After a mo- 
ment we walked on very quietly, until, passing out of 
the mellow moonlight, we entered the brilliantly-lighted 
parlors of the Spottswood Hotel. 

The hum of conversation, the sound of careless, happy 



ALPHA. 33 

laughter, the music of a band playing outside, soon 
brought us down from the heights of enthusiasm to thev 
delightful realities of the present. For, spite of battle 
and death and perplexities, even certain trouble ahead, 
Richmond was ga^^, hopeful, and "all went merry as a 
marriage bell." The gaunt spectres of privation, want, 
disease, death, of ruined homes, starving families, and 
universal desolation, were shadows which fled before the 
legions of hope pressing so gladly and gayly to the front. 
Here in one corner laughing girls bewitched and held in 
thrall young soldier boys, — willing captives, — yet meet- 
ing the glances of bright eyes with far less courage than 
they had shown while facing the guns upon the battle- 
field. Thrilling tales of the late battle were poured into 
credulous ears: "PPe were here. We were there. We 
were everywhere. Our company accomplished wonder- 
ful deeds of valor ;" and if Beauty's smile be indeed a fit 
reward, truly the.'^e young heroes received it. 

Our party exchanged greetings with several groups, 
seating ourselves at last within the brilliant circle sur- 
rounding Judge and Mrs. Hopkins, of Alabama. Here 
were several ladies, wives of distinguished officers in the 
Confederate service, members of the Cabinet, and others, 
and splendid-looking officers in handsome uniforms were 
constantly coming and going, exchanging courteous 
greetings, lingering for a few moments in conversation, 
grave or gay. Here, perhaps, a stately form strode up 
and down the large rooms so engrossed in thought as to 
be regardless of all that w^as passing. There, in deep 
converse, stood a group equally regardless of their sur- 
roundings, whose grave faces and earnest questions 
showed the importance of the subject under discussion. 
Among those who upon that evening and afterward, 
" many a time and oft," were met together in those 
brilliant rooms there was not one heart untouched by 



34 MEMORIES. 

the fire of patriotism, — a flame fed by every thought, 
word, and action, burning ever with steadily-increasing 
brightness. 

I fail to recall many of the illustrious names which on 
that night sounded like stirring music in my ears; but 
as often as memory reverts to that scene, the forerunner 
of repeated pleasures, I seem to feel anew the pressure 
of friendly hands, unforgotten faces appear through the 
mists of the past, still aglow with " the light of other 
days." 

Judge Hopkins was rather an invalid, but his high 
position, fine appearance, his pleasant conversational 
powers, marked him as one worthy of attention from 
all. 

To Mrs. Hopkins had been entrusted the duty of 
caring for the sick and wounded soldiers from Alabama. 
Two State hospitals had alreadj^ been established by 
her, and she had full power to control all matters con- 
nected with these hospitals, except such as came within 
the province of the surgeon in charge. 

1 have never seen a woman better fitted for such a 
work. Energetic, tireless, systematic, loving profoundly 
the cause and its defenders, she neglected no detail of 
business or other thing that could afford aid or comfort 
to the sick or wounded. She kept up a voluminous cor- 
respondence, made in person every purchase for her 
charges, received and accounted for hundreds of boxes 
sent from Alabama containing clothing and delicacies for 
the sick, and visited the wards of the hospitals every 
day. If she found any duty neglected by nurse or sur- 
geon or hospital steward, her reprimand was certain and 
very severe. She could not nurse the sick or wounded 
personally, for her whole time was necessarily devoted 
to executive duties, but her smile was the sweetest, I 
believe, that ever lit up a human face, and standing by 



ALPHA. 35 

the bedside of some poor Alabamian, away from home, 
and wretched as well as sick, she must have seemed to 
him like an angel visitant. A more decided woman in 
dealing with all who came within her influence or con- 
trol I never knew, yet she was kindl}^ withal, though 
never expecting or brooking opposition. To her hus- 
Oand alone she deferred in all things, and was gentleness 
itself. 

On meetino; her for the first time she called me to her 
side, saying, in her abrupt way, " I like you, you are so 
in earnest ; do you really mean to nurse our sick soldiers 
during the war, as Mr. Maury tells me ?" I replied, as 
I distinctly recollect, with great fervor, " I do, God help- 
ing me." 

" But you are not strong enough, and you are too 
young." 

Again I replied, " I feel that I am called to the work, 
and strength will be given me." 

She laid her hand kindly upon my shoulder, smiling 
as she said, " I may put you to the test some day ; be 
ready." 

This converaation occurred on the evening of my 
visit to the hotel with my friends. On the way home 
an earnest protest against my " quixotic idea" was made 
by both, which ended in a truce of a few days, during 
which it was hoped I would repent and rescind my 
determination. 

On the corner of Clay and Twelfth Streets stood the 
pleasant and commodious residence of Mr. and Mrs. 
Booker. 

My friend Mrs. Gawthmey resided here, and here the 
greater part of my time was spent when "off duty" 
(of which more anon). 

This model Virginia household was so true a type of 
the homes of Eichmond as they were at that time, that 



36 MEMORIES. 

its description will present to the reader all, for the 
same spirit pervaded every one. As in almost every 
case, the young men of the family were in the Confeder- 
ate service (the sons of this household were of the 
Eichmond Howitzers). The father, in feeble health, yet 
lavished his means and his little strength upon every 
patriotic duty which arose. The mother, far more 
youthful, active, and energetic, full of enthusiasm for 
the cause, exceeding proud of the brave boys whom she 
had freely sent out to battle, loving and serving all sol- 
diers with heart and hand, was seconded with equal 
ardor and wonderful ability by her sweet young daugh- 
ters. The spare sleeping-rooms were always daintily 
prepared, and at the service of any soldier who needed 
care and rest. Soldiers feeble from recent illness were 
encouraged to recline awhile in restful arm-chairs in the 
cool flower-scented parlors, while the girls often enter- 
tained them with music or pleasant conversation. 

]N'ot a meal was set in that house unshared by one or 
more soldiers. The table was always as attractive as 
finest linen damask, elegant china and glass, and hand- 
some silver could make it. The meals were abundant 
and nourishing, but plain. Delicacies of all kinds were 
prepared constantly in that "Yirginia kitchen," and 
daintily arranged in the pantry by the ladies' own hands, 
but only to be sent to the sick and wounded strangers 
lying in the numerous hospitals. 

Opposite to the home just described arose the spa- 
cious but unpretentious residence of President Davis, the 
Confederate " White House" (in this case only in a figu- 
rative sense, for the executive mansion was of dark 
brown stone or stucco). As nearly as I can remember, 
the main entrance was on Clay Street. On one side the 
windows opened on Twelfth Street, on the other lay a 
beautiful garden extending quite to the edge of '' Shokoe 



ALPHA. 37 

Hill," which overlooked the classic valley of " Butcher- 
town," through the midst of which ran " Shokoe Creek." 
The boys of this region, from generation to generation, 
had been renowned for exceeding pugnacity. Between 
them and the city boys constantly-recurring quarrels 
were so bitter that sometimes men were drawn in 
through sympathy with their boys. The law seemed 
powerless to put an end to this state of things. 

Eegular arrangements were made, definite challenges 
were given and accepted, and fights took place between 
successive sets of boys as they grew old enough to throw 
down or take up the gauntlet. Eichmond was at that 
time considered a law-abiding city, and had only a few 
policemen, whom the boys found it easy to elude. The 
appearance of officers Chalkly and Tyler, however, 
generally served to close the fight until next time. 

Within the Presidential mansion was no magnificence 
of furniture or appointments, — nothing in the style of 
living calculated to create dissatisfaction or a sense of 
injustice in the minds of those who, equally with their 
chosen leader, had already sacrificed much, and were 
willing to give their all to the cause. No pomp and 
circumstance chilled loyal hearts. 

Jefi'erson Davis, the statesman to whose wisdom had 
been entrusted the destinies of the South ; the patriot 
who merged his ambition, his hopes, himself, in his de- 
votion to the right ; the Christian, who humbly committed 
his ways unto the Lord, whose dignity enhanced pros- 
perity, whose fortitude conquered adversity, — Jeiferson 
Davis, the chosen exponent of undying principles, was 
yet in his own house simply a Southern gentleman, — a 
kindly, genial host, extending genuine hospitality to all. 

Of Mrs. Davis my recollections are very pleasant. 
Always meeting from her a cordial reception, admiring 
the unaffected courtesy which put her visitors at their 

4 



38 MEMORIES. 

ease, I yet became distinctly conscious that in her the 
feelings of wife and mother were stronger than any 
other ; that no matter into what station of life it should 
please God to call her, devotion to these womanly duties 
would be paramount. 

From the very first there was among the people of 
the South an earnest dependence upon God, a habit of 
appeal to His mercy and loving-kindness, and a marked 
attention to religious duties. On Sundays the churches 
Avere crowded with devout worshippers. Every service 
was attended by more or less Confederate soldiers, gen- 
erally in squads, but sometimes even in companies, mar- 
shalled by some of their officers. 

The first Sunday after my arrival in Eichmond, kneel- 
ing in St. James's Church, I heard for the first time the 
changed prayer for the " President of the Confederate 
States and all others in authority." A death-like silence 
prevailed during the most solemn and impressive read- 
ing of the prayer. Then from every mouth welled forth 
a fervent, heartfelt "Amen !" The earnest, manly voices 
of the soldiers added depth and volume to the sound 
which thrilled every pulse of one's being. It did not 
seem to us that we were merely going through a form 
of prayer for one of " those in high places," but that our 
President was one of ourselves, and all hearts went out 
toward him, earnestly desiring for him heaven's choicest 
blessings, — the all-wise guidance he was so sure to need. 

Scattered all over the city in many a shady nook were 
cosey, pleasant retreats, where wounded or sick soldiers 
were gladly welcomed, — private hospitals presided over 
by ladies, sustained by their constant attention and un- 
bounded liberality. One lady generally had direction of 
the affairs of one particular hospital, assisted by others 
whose duties lay just there, and who devoted each in 
turn on successive days their entire care and attention 



ALPHA. 39 

to this labor of love. For instance, on Monday certain 
ladies sent in all the cooked food needed by the patients. 
Others personally nursed the sick. Still others attended 
to the distribution of the food or superintended the ser- 
vants, and so with all duties required. On Tuesday 
another set of ladies were on duty, and so on. 

My whole heart and soul went out toward the sick 
soldiers. My days were mostly spent in visiting the 
hospitals. 

At first the larger ones attracted me, because there 
seemed to be so many sufferers and more need of nurses. 
My timid advances (never amounting to a direct ap- 
plication, but only a suggestion as to my qualifications 
as a nurse) were condescendingly smiled down by the 
surgeons in charge. My youthful appearance was against 
me. Besides, there really was no need for other nursing 
in many of the State hospitals, notably that of Louisi- 
ana, than the angelic ministrations of the Sisters of 
Charity, whose tireless vigils knew no end, whose skill 
and efiiciency, as well as their constant devotion, envi- 
roned the patients committed to their care. Occasionally 
I was allowed the blessed privilege of fanning a sick 
hero or of moistening parched lips or bathing fevered 
brows. But somebody always came whose business it 
was to do these things, and I was set aside. One day, 
however, by a happy chance, T found in a ward of one 
of the hospitals a poor fellow who seemed to have been 
left to die. So forlorn, so feeble, so near death did he 
seem, that my heart yearned over him, for he was only 
a boy, and I knew he was some mother's darling. He 
had, like many other soldiers, been unwilling to go to a 
hospital, and remaining in camp while broken out with 
measles, took cold and provoked an attack of pneumonia. 
In addition to this, terrible abscesses had formed under 
each ear, and his eyes were swollen and suppurating. His 



40 MEMORIES. 

surgeon said there was little hope of his recovery; none 
at all unless he could be removed to some more quiet 
place, and receive unremitting care and watchfulness as 
well as excellent nursing. " Can he be removed if I 
promise to fulfil all these conditions?" said I. "It is a 

risk, but his only chance," replied Dr. . " Then I 

will go at once and prepare a place." As I spoke, the 
suffering boy grasped my hand with all his feeble 
strength, as if afraid to let me leave him. Eeassuring 
him as well as I could, I rushed off to the " Soldiers' 
Eest," where I knew I should find friends ready and 
willing to help me. My tale was soon told to the ladies 
in charge, who at once and with all their hearts entered 
into my plans. One vacant cot temptingly clean and 
white was moved into a secluded corner and assigned to 
me for the use of my " sick boy." The loan of an am- 
bulance, readily obtained, facilitated his removal. That 
same evening I had the satisfaction of seeing him laid 
carefully upon the comfortable bed so kindly prepared 
by the ladies of the Soldiers' Eest, exhausted, but evi- 
dently not worse for the change. 

Eight here began my career as a nurse of Confederate 
soldiers. This was my first patient, — my very own, — to 
have and to hold until the issues of life and death should 
be decided. All facilities were accorded me by the ladies. 
Dr. Little gave his most careful attention and his greatest 
skill, but the nursing, the responsibility, was mine. 

I may as well state that I came off with flying colors, 
earning the precious privilege, so ardently desired, of 
being enrolled among those ready for duty and to be 
trusted. My patient recovered, and returned to his 

command, the Mississippi Eegiment. His name was 

D. Babers, and twenty years after the war I met him 
once more, — a stalwart, bearded man, as unlike as possi- 
ble the pale young soldier who had lived in my memory. 



ALPHA. . 41 

His delight and gratitude and that of his family seemed 
unbounded, and so I found the bread once cast upon the 
waters very sweet when returned to me " after many 
days." 

Finding that my desultory Avanderings among the 
larger hospitals were likely to result in little real useful- 
ness, and that the ladies attached to the Soldiers' Eest 
would be glad of my help, I became a regular attendant 
there. This delightful place of refuge for the sick and 
wounded was situated high up on Clay Street, not very 
far from one of the camps and parade-grounds. A rough 
little school-house, it had been transformed into a bower 
of beauty and comfort by loving hands. The walls, 
freshly whitewashed, were adorned with attractive 
pictures. The windows were draped with snowy cur- 
tains tastefully looped back to admit the summer breeze 
or carefully drawn to shade the patient, as circumstances 
required. The beds were miracles of whiteness, and 
clean linen sheets, in almost every case, draped and 
covered them. Softest pillows in slips of odorous linen 
supported the restless heads of the sick. By the side 
of each cot stood a small table (one or two old-fashioned 
stands of solid mahogany among them). Upon these 
were spread fine napkins. Fruit, drinks, etc., were set 
upon them, not in coarse, common crockery, but in 
delicate china and glass. Nothing was too good for the 
soldiers. The school-house contained three rooms. The 
school-room proper was quite large, and here were ranged 
about thirty beds. One of the recitation-rooms was set 
apart for patients who might need special attention or 
seclusion. The other was occupied by the ladies whose 
duty it was to receive and distribute the delicate and 
nutritious supplies of food which unfailingly arrived at 
stated hours, borne by aristocratic-looking colored ser- 
vants, on silver waiters or in baskets covered with snowy 

4* 



42 MEMORIES. 

damask. During every hour of the day. gentle women 
ministered untiringly to the sick. They woke from 
fevered dreams to behold kindly faces bending above 
them, to feel the touch of soft hands, to receive the cool- 
ing draught or welcome food. Every evening brought 
carriage-loads of matrons and young girls laden with 
flowers or fruit, bringing books, and, better than all, 
smiles and pleasant words. The sick soldiers were ob- 
jects of interest to all. All hearts yearned over them, 
all hands were ready to serve them. As night came on, 
the ladies who had served during the day were replaced 
by others. No one ever failed to meet her self-imposed 
duties. jN'o patient was for a moment neglected. 

I cannot recall the names of all the ladies who at- 
tended at the Soldiers' Eest. Those whom I knew 
best were Mrs. Gawthmey, Mrs. Booker, Mrs. Grant, 
Miss Catherine Poitreaux, Mrs. Edmond Euffin, and 
Miss Susan Watkins. 

A few steps below, between Ninth and Tenth Streets, 
was another private hospital, similar in almost every 
respect to the one just described, organized and presided 
over by Mrs. Caroline Mayo. She also was assisted by 
several ladies, but had entire direction, and threw her- 
self into the work with all her soul. Her patriotism 
was boundless, her courage and endurance unfailing. 
Not only at that time, but for three years, every hour 
of her time, every thought of her heart, was given to 
the sick and Avounded Confederates. 

Sometimes, alas ! the care and nursing lavished upon 
the sick was unavailing. Death often invaded the 
" Eest." In every case the rites of burial were accorded. 
Women remembered tenderly the far-distant mother or 
wife, and therefore honored their dead. 

For a few daj^s after my patient had ceased to need 
special nursing I continued to serve with the ladies 



ALPHA. 43 

attached to the little hospital on Clay Street, still long- 
ing, however, for a larger sphere of usefulness. 

One morning, just as I had arrived there and was pre- 
paring to begin my daily duties, a carriage stopped at 
the door, from which Mrs. Judge Hopkins descended, 
and, hastily entering the hospital, announced to the 
ladies that she had " come for Mrs. Beers.'" They 
strongly demurred, and I felt at first great hesitation in 
obeying so hasty a summons.. But Mrs. Hopkins was 
very much in earnest. " Indeed, you must come," said 
she, " for I have great need of you. A large number 
of sick and wounded Alabamians will arrive this morn- 
ing. I have found a place to put them, but some one 
must be there to prepare for their accommodation, to 
receive hospital supplies, and direct their arrangement, 
while I make purchases and attend to other matters. 
Come," holding out both hands towards me ; " no hireling 
can fill the place. Come, now, with me: we have no 
time to lose." I hesitated no longer, but entered the 
carriage. We were at once driven down-town, stopping 

to order cots, mattresses, etc., then to the corner of 

and Streets, where stood an immense tobacco 

factory, owned by Messrs. Turpin & Yarborough. 

Arrived here, a pitiful sight met our eyes. Perhaps 
fifty sick men had arrived unexpectedly, and were sit- 
ting or lying about in every conceivable position ex- 
pressive of feebleness, extreme illness, utter exhaustion. 
Mr. Yarborough, having given up the keys to Mrs. Hop- 
kins, was impatiently pacing in and out among the 
prostrate men. Coming upon this scene, both Mrs. 
Hopkins and myself at once realized all that lay before 
us, and braced our nerves to meet the emergency. 

The men were soon under shelter, but no beds had 
yet arrived. Mrs. Hopkins led me into the factory, in- 
troduced me to Dr. Clark, who had come to take charge 



44 MEMORIES. 

as surgeon, and placed me under him at the head of 
affairs as her deputy. A corps of nurses, hastily sum- 
moned, were ordered to report to me. 

Meantime immense boxes arrived from the depot, sent 
by the people of Alabama. These contained pillows, 
comforts, sheets, as well as wines, cordials, and every 
delicacy for the sick, also quantities of shirts, drawers, 
and socks, old and new. The boxes were wrenched open, 
pillows placed quickly under the heads of the sickest, and 
cordials administered. As the beds came in they were 
placed, made up, and the worst cases first, others after- 
ward, were transferred to them, until all were lying 
comfortably between clean sheets and clad in clean 
shirts and drawers. There was no lack of food, both 
substantial and of a kind proper for the very sick. 

I do not believe that a squad of sick soldiers arrived 
in Eichmond, at least during the first year of the war, 
who were not discovered and bountifully fed shortly 
after their arrival. In this case waiter after waiter of 
food was sent in, first from the house of Mr. Yarborough 
and afterward by all the neighborhood. Hospital sup- 
plies having been ordered as soon as it was known the 
sick men were expected, all necessaries were soon at 
hand, while the boxes referred to supplied many luxu- 
ries. The large room into which all these were huddled 
presented for days a scene of "confusion worse con- 
founded." The contents of two of the largest boxes were 
dumped upon the floor, the boxes themselves serving, 
one as a table for the drugs, the other as a sort of coun- 
ter where the druggist quickly compounded prescrip- 
tions, which the surgeons as hastily seized and personally 
administered. Carpenters were set at work; but of 
course shelves, etc., could not be magically produced, so 
we placed boards across barrels, arranging in piles the 
contents of the boxes for ready use. 



ALPHA. 45 

Mrs. Hopkins, sitting upon a box, directed these mat- 
ters, while I had my hands full attending to the poor 
fellows in the wards where they had been placed. 

Four of our sick died that night. I had never in my 
life witnessed a death-scene before, and had to fight hard 
to keep down the emotion which would have greatly 
impaired my usefulness. 

At the end of a long, large wing of the factory were 
two excellent rooms, formerly the offices of the owners. 
These were comfortably fitted up, the one as a bedroom 
for myself, and the other as a sitting-room and private 
office. A female servant was specially assigned to me, 
who slept on a mattress on the floor of the sitting-room, 
and whose duty it was to accompany me through the 
wards and render any special or personal service re- 
quired. A long hall ran along this wing, connecting the 
offices with the main building. The long, broad room 
opening out of this hall was fitted up as a ward specially 
mine, for the reception of my own friends and very ill 
patients who needed my special attention day and night. 
This favor was granted me because I had shown some 
unwillingness to place myself in any position where I 
could not nurse any Louisiana soldier friends or others 
who might desire or be permitted to come to me. As 
soon as matters were somewhat settled, my little son 
joined me in my new quarters, and thus the Third Ala- 
bama Hospital became our home for many a month. 
The little fellow spent very little time there, however. 
My Eichmond friends never lost sight of me for one day 
during my service in that city. Nearly every day my 
little boy was sent for to play among happy children, 
far away from the impure atmosphere of the hospital, 
which was soon filled with patients suffering from almost 
every form of disease. 

As the demand for more room became pressing, the 



46 MEMORIES. 

three stories of the main building were successively util- 
ized, as well as a large storage-room in the yard. The 
ground-floor contained the surgeons' and steward's of- 
fices, store-rooms, etc., while the second and third formed 
two immense sick-wards. The first floor of the long 
wing before mentioned was occupied by the kitchen 
and sleeping apartments for servants. 

Mrs. Hopkins and I thought exactly alike regarding 
the disposition of the delicacies continuously sent from 
all points in Alabama for the sick and wounded. None 
but the sick should have them. Nothing but the simple 
though plentiful rations were ever served at the meals, 
which the resident surgeons and druggists shared with 
me. Yet, by the never-ceasing kindness of friends out- 
side, I was well suppUed with luxuries enough for my- 
self, and to share with my messmates each day. 

Having the care and responsibility of so many sick, my 
time was fully occupied. I seldom went out. I could 
not stop to talk to visitors, but often led kind ladies to 
the bedsides of those whom I knew would enjoy and be 
benefited by their bright presence and kindly words, as 
well as by their offerings of flowers, fruit, or dainties. 

Amid disease and suff'ering, battling always with death 
(too often, alas ! the conqueror), I was yet happy and 
content. The surgeons were skilful and devoted ; the 
means at hand to supply the wants, even the caprices of 
\\\y patients, as soon as expressed. 

I loved very dearly these heroes whom I served, and 
felt that I was as well beloved. Welcoming smiles, eager 
greetings, grateful words, blessed me as unfailingly as 
the sunlight and dew the earth. Every hour of toil 
brought its own rich reward. These were Confederate 
soldiers. God had permitted me to work for the holy 
cause. This was enough to flood my whole being with 
content and deepest gratitude. 



ALPHA. 47 

N'ext to Commodore Maury one of my most faithful 
friends was Dr. Little, of Richmond. He was surgeon 
of the Soldiers' Rest, and also attended the sick soldiers 
at many private houses in the city and at some of the 
larger hospitals. 

Small in^ stature, in extremely delicate health, he was 
yet a giant as far as skill and work were concerned. 
An earnest Christian, a polished gentleman, of quiet and 
unassuming yet elegant manners, interesting in conver- 
sation, a true, firm friend, an unflinching patriot, what 
more could be added to indicate an almost perfect char- 
acter? His care and watchfulness, combined with rare 
skill, — directed b}^ the All-merciful Father, — saved the 
life of my little boy, who was brought to death's door by 
an attack of typhoid fever during the fall of 1861. 

Meantime, as the months rolled on, it became evident 
that the victory at Manassas could not be considered as 
a criterion of future success. Everywhere there was 
fighting. Yarying fortune attended the Confederate 
arms. Z7nvar3ing glory, unsurpassed, magnificent 
bravery so dazzled the eyes of the nation that none 
saw or admitted defeat anywhere. Yet valuable terri- 
tory had been surrendered. Homeless refugees flocked 
into Richmond, but even these were hopeful and defiant, 
almost i^roud of their early martyrdom, ready to serve 
the cause by " doing all their hands found to do with 
their might." 

If anything had been needed to inspire hope, to 
arouse patriotic pride, the appearance of Johnston's 
army as it passed through Richmond on its way to the 
Peninsula to foil once more the " On-to-Richmond" 
plans of the enemy would have more than sufficed. 

Oh, what days were those, which came unheralded, to 
write their history in letters of fire upon the records of 
the city of Richmond ! 



48 MEMORIES. 

Greneral Johnston had kept his own counsel. Says 
Pollard : " With such consummate address was this move 
managed, that our own troops had no idea of what was 
intended until the march was taken up." Soldiers had 
been continually passing through the city, but by com- 
panies or regiments, each in its turn admired and en- 
thusiasticall}^ cheered. Now, w^hen seemingly countless 
legions swept by with martial tread, their resounding 
footsteps and splendid appearance equally with the roll 
of many drums and the clash of regimental bands 
stirred the hearts of the multitude thronging the side- 
walks, crowding every door-way and gallery, '' mount- 
ing wall and battlement, yea, even to chimney-top ;" 
not, indeed, to see a -'great Csesar," but to hail with 
wildest delight a magnificent army, of which the hum- 
blest soldier was a " greater than Cassar," inasmuch as 
he was ready to sacrifice upon the altar of patriotism 
all that the Roman conqueror held most dear first of 
all, — personal ambition. 

Among the crowd, side by side with the ladies resi- 
dent in Richmond, stood mothers, wives, sisters, from 
other Southern States, looking eagerly for the well- 
known uniform worn by their own, proudly pointing 
them out as they passed, even to utter strangers, sure 
of warmest sympathy, following them with longing eyes 
until they were lost to sight, hundreds, alas ! forever. 

Among the gayly-fluttering banners borne proudly 
aloft some were ragged and torn by shot or shell. As 
each of these appeared men shouted themselves hoarse, 
women drew shuddering sighs and grew deathly pale, 
as if realizing for the first time the horrors of war and 
the dangers their loved ones had passed. 

For several days this excitement was kept up. All 
night heavy artillery rumbled along Broad Street. At 
any hour of the night I could see from my window 



ALPHA. 49 

shadowy figures of mounted men, could hear the cease- 
less tramp of cavalry horses. Every day the sun shone 
upon the glittering bayonets and gay flags of swiftly- 
passing soldiery. The air was flooded with music until 
the last strain died away, and the calm which preceded 
a terrible storm of battle fell upon the city. 

The glorious scenes of the past few days had en- 
gendered a sense of protection and security. All felt 
that this splendid army must prove invincible. 

In the Yalley of Virginia brave troops under Stone- 
wall Jackson were actively engaged in keeping the 
enemy at bay. Forced marches, insufficient food, the 
want of tents to shelter them from the weather while 
they slept, continually decimated this army. 

The number of wounded in our wards increased daily. 
Sick men poured into the hos2:)ital. Often they came too 
late, having remained at the post of duty until fever had 
sapped the springs of life or the rattling breath sounded 
the knell of hope, marking too surely that fatal disease, 
double pneumonia. Awestruck I watched the fierce 
battle for life, the awful agony, trying vainly every 
means of rehef, lingering to witness struggles which 
wrung my heart, because I could not resist the appeal- 
ing glance of dying eyes, the hoarse, whistling whisper 
that bade me stay, — because I must try to comfort the 
parting soul, must hope to catch some last word or 
message to comfort the loved ones at home. 

Since then I have witnessed every form of suffering 
and death, but none more appalling than the fierce 
struggle for breath, when the lungs are filling up by 
sure degrees, in the last stages of the disease. Kever 
has the Death Angel seemed to me more merciful than 
when he took in his icy grasp the fevered hands wildly 
beating the air, closed the starting eyes, silenced the 
gasping breath. 



50 MEMORIES. 

Fortunately, I then had ample means at my command 
to relieve suffering, in many cases even to indulge the 
caprices of the sick. In this I only acted as the almoner 
of devoted, generous women in far-away homes, who 
deprived themselves of every luxury to benefit the sick 
soldiers. There seemed to be no end to the arrival and 
unpacking of boxes. 

To nearly every one of numberless pairs of socks and 
gloves was pinned a paper upon which was written some 
kindly message, a few words of cheer, generally signed 
with the name of the donor. Strange as it may seem, 
it is perfectly true that I found among these (not once, 
but several times) the name of one of my patients, and 
at a venture bearing the article to his bedside, watched 
his delight, the eager grasp, the brightened eyes, the 
heaving breast of some poor fellow who had thus acci- 
dentally received a gift and message from his own 
home. 

Although relieved of all unnecessary fatigue, having 
at my command nurses and servants to carry out my 
plans for the sick, the burden of their suffering lay heavy 
upon my own heart. The already full wards of the 
hospital now became crowded. For many of the gallant 
men who a few weeks before had marched so gayly to 
their doom were brought back bearing horrible, ghastly 
wounds. 

Anxious responsibility murdered sleep. A shuddering 
horror, a consuming pity, possessed me as often as dread- 
ful groans from the operating-room reached my ears. No 
one could have convinced me then that I should ever^e^ 
used to it, as I did later. 

Mrs. Hopkins watched over me with the tenderness 
of a mother. But she also had hands and heart full. 
Her cautions, with those of other friends, bore not a 
feather's weight in comparison with the increasing de- 



ALPHA. 51 

mands of my sick. But one day I fell fainting while 
on duty. Thus began a severe attack of nervous fever, 
which brought me very low. Can I ever forget the 
tender, devoted nursing of some of the ladies of Eich- 
mond! Truly it seemed as if "God had sent angelic 
legions," whose sweet faces bent above me da}'' after 
day, whose kindly voices pervaded my feverish dreams. 
The same care usually given to sick soldiers was now lav- 
ished upon me. After several days I was able to leave 
my bed, but, finding myself totally unfit for dut}', and 
being unwilling to remain a burden upon my kind 
friends, I decided to go to my husband's relatives in 
Alabama, though fully intending to return to my labors 
in Eichmond as soon as my strength should be restored. 
My husband having been transferred to the Army of 
Tennessee, where he continued to serve until the close 
of the war, this plan was changed. I have never since 
revisited the scene of my earliest service to the Confed- 
eracy. Perhaps it is as well that I did not, for memory 
preserves at least this one picture, more full of light than 
shadow, because always softly illumined by the beauti- 
ful star which had not then begun to wane, — " the star 
of Hope." 



CHAPTEE II. 

ALABAMA. 

^^Here we resty 

The hoarse panting of the steam-pipes, the clangor of 
bells, the splashing of the paddle-wheels, died away in 
the distance as I stood upon the landing watching the 
receding boat steaming down the Alabama Eiver on its 
way to Mobile. 

Ah, how lovely appeared the woodland scenery around 
me ! The sombre green of pines, and the equally dark 
though gloss}^ foliage of oaks, were beautifully enlivened 
b}^ lighter greens, and by the brilliant hues of the sassa- 
fras-tree. Here climbed in tantalizing beauty — tempt- 
ing as insidious vice, which attracts but to destroy — the 
poison-oak vine. Cherokee roses starred the hedges, or, 
adventurously climbing the highest trees, flung down- 
ward graceful pendants. Upon the edge of the bank 
stood a lofty pine, branchless and dead, but, by the law 
of compensation which nature delights to execute, 
clothed to the very top with closely-clinging vines of 
mingled green and brightest red. 

Standing upon the bluff above the river, drinking in 
the beauty of the scene, listening to the murmur of 
waters, the song of birds, the weird music of the pines, 
I repeated to myself the sweet name Alabama with a 
new sense of its fitness : sweet quiet and restfulness 
seemed to belong to the spot. 

Surely, the noise of battle, the suffering and sorrow I 
had so lately witnessed, could never invade this abode 
of peace. Walking towards the house where I was to 
62 



1 



ALABAMA. 53 

await conversance to the plantation of my uncle, I heard 
the moaning of one apparently in deep distress. At the 
door the lady of the house appeared, with red eyes 
and a sorrowful countenance. Said she, "Just listen at 

Mrs. . Her son went off on the boat to join the army, 

and 'pears like she can't get over it. She kept up splen- 
did until after he got off.'' I sat listening, not daring to 
intrude upon such sorrow. 

Over the lovely landscape before me fell the shadow 
of the future, a shadow soon to darken every fair domain, 
every home in all the South. 

After a time the grieving mother passed out, and, 
entering her carriage, was driven away to her desolate 
home. 

Later, I, too, accomplished the last ten miles of my 
journey, arriving at my destination in time for supper, 
and meeting with a cordial welcome from my friends. 

Let none give undue praise to the women to whom 
during the war Almighty God vouchsafed the inestima- 
ble privilege of remaining near the front, even though 
they may have endured untold hardship, hours of agony 
while listening to the noise of battle, fully realizing the 
extreme danger of beloved fathers, husbands, or sons. 

^ever until my visit to Alabama had I fully realized 
the horrors of suspense, — the lives of utter self-abnega- 
tion heroically lived by women in country homes all 
over the South during the dreary years of the war. 

Every day — every hour — was fraught with anxiety 
and dread. Eumor was always busy, but they could 
not hear definitely : they could not know how their loved 
ones were faring. 

Can imagination conceive a situation more pitiable? 

Grhastly visions made night hideous. During the day, 
the quick galloping of a horse, the unexpected appear- 



54 MEMORIES. 

ance of a visitor, would agitate a whole household, send- 
ing women in haste to some secret place where they 
might pray for strength to bear patiently whatever 
tidings the messenger should bring. 

Self-denial in all things began from the first. Butter, 
eggs, chickens, etc., were classed as luxuries, to be col- 
lected and sent by any opportunity offering to the 
nearest point of shipment to hospital or camp. Fruits 
were gathered and made into preserves or wine "for 
the sick soldiers." Looms were set up on every planta- 
tion. The whirr of the spinning-wheel was heard from 
morning until night. Dusky forms hovered over large 
iron cauldrons, continually thrusting down into the 
boiling dye the product of the looms, to be transformed 
into Confederate gray or butternut jeans. 

In the wide halls within the plantation-houses stood 
tables piled with newly-dyed cloth and hanks of wool- 
len or cotton yarns. The knitting of socks went on 
incessantlj'. Ladies walked about in performance of 
household or plantation duties, sock in hand, "casting 
on," "heeling," "turning off." By the light of pine 
knots the elders still knitted far into the night, while to 
young eyes and more supple fingers was committed the 
task of finishing off comforts that had been " tacked" 
during the day, or completing heavy army overcoats ; 
and painfully these toiled over the unaccustomed task. 

When a sufficient number of these articles had been 
completed by the united efforts of ladies for miles 
around, a meeting was held at one of the churches, 
where all helped to pack boxes to be sent to " the front." 
I attended one of these meetings, the memory of which 
is ever fresh. 

We started from the plantation in the early morning. 
Our way lay along the red clay roads which in many 
parts of Alabama contrast so beautifully with the vari- 



ALABAMA. 55 

ously-shaded green of the woods and the brown carpet 
beneath the pines. The old negro driver, "Uncle 
George," sitting upon the box, looked solemnly out 
from the enormous and stiff shirt-collar which helped 
to support his dignity. 

I believe the old man always drove his beautiful 
horses under protest. It was either too early or too 
late, too hot or too cold, the roads either too muddy or 
too dusty. 

This particular morning was so lovely that even the 
horses seemed to enjoy it, and for some reason " Uncle 
G-eorge" was less pompous and more gentle than usual. 
Perhaps the anxious faces of the ladies touched his 
heart, or he may have been softened by the knowledge 
of the perils his young masters were being subjected to. 

As often as we passed horseman or carriage on the 
road a stop was ordered, while the ladies made eager 
inquiries for news from Eichmond. 

The battle of Shiloh, and afterwards that of Seven 
Pines, had desolated many homes in the vicinit}^. The 
fate of some was yet uncertain. Strong fellow-feeling 
knit all hearts. Any passer-by, even if a stranger, 
asked or answered questions. 

A drive of eight miles brought us to the church, a 
simple, lowly building, the " Grove Church" I believe 
it was called. Here beneath the shade were drawn 
several carriages, and at the door a few plantation- 
wagons waited, some laden with straw, others with 
articles to be sent off. In the vestibule, boxes were 
being rapidly filled. It was a busy scene, but by no 
means a gay one. A few unconscious children " played 
at party" in the pews, setting out on leaves or bits of 
bark their luncheon, broken into fragments, and serving 
in acorn cups cold water for tea. Unmolested and un- 
reproved, they ran up and down the steps of the high, 



56 



MEMORIES. 



old-fashioned pulpit, half-fearfully sitting down upon 
the minister's chair, or standing on tip-toe to peep over 
the sacred desk at the busy group below. Young girls 
moved silently about "helping." Over their pale lips 
not a ripple of laughter broke. The fire of youth 
seemed to have died out of their sad eyes, quenched for 
a time by floods of bitter tears. 

To kindly question one of these replied, "Mamma 
is well, but of course utterly prostrated, and does not 
leave her room. Papa is still in Yirginia nursing Bud- 
die Eddie. We have no tidings of brother yet ; he is 
reported ' missing,' but we hope he may have been 
taken prisoner." 

Some familiar faces were absent. And of these it 
was told that one had lost a husband, another a son, 
and so the sadness deepened. Presently the trot of a 
horse was heard. In another moment the good minister 
stood among his people. Alas! he could only confirm 
the fearful tales of battle and carnage. But from the 
storehouse of mind and heart he brought forth precious 
balm, won direct from heaven by earnest prayer and 
simple faith. With this he strove to soothe the un- 
happy, anxious ones who looked to him for comfort. 
His heart yearned over his little flock, wandering in a 
pathway beset with sharpest thorns. But upon his 
troubled face was plainly written, " Of myself I can do 
nothing." A few faltering words he essayed, but, as if 
conscious of the utter uselessness of any language save 
that of prayer, he raised imploring hands to heaven, 
saying, simply, "Let us pray." 

Calmer, if not comforted, all arose from their knees, 
and, having finished their labor of love, separated, to 
return to the homes which had known beloved forms 
and faces, but would know them no more for years, per- 
haps forever. 



ALABAMA. 57 

Upon reaching once more our own home, we crept, 
one by one, to a darkened chamber, where lay a mar- 
tyred mother whose son had been slain at the battle of 
Seven Pines. Pale as death she lay, her Bible clasped 
to her breast, the sad eyes closed, the white lips mur- 
muring always words of prayer for patient submission 
to God's will, the nerveless bands never losing their 
grasp upon the " rod and staff" which comforted her. 

Of this family, every man, and every boy old enough 
to handle a gun, had long ago joined the Confederate 
army. The dear boy whom our hearts now mourned 
had just graduated with the highest honors when the 
war broke out. Never a blind enthusiast, but an intelli- 
gent patriot, he had been among the first to lay ambi- 
tious hoj^es and literary aspirations upon the altar of 
his country. His brothers were cadets at the Virginia 
Military Institute, and afterwards did good service 
under Stonewall Jackson. Our slain hero joined the 
Third Alabama Eegiment, and, notwithstanding his 
tender age and delicate health, had already made his 
mark as a soldier, brave as the bravest, never succumb- 
ing for a moment to unaccustomed hardship. His record 
as a son was all that a mother's heart could desire. 
He had been seen by a comrade during the terrible 
battle, sitting up against a tree, shot through the breast 
and mortally wounded. The enemy swept over the 
ground and he was seen no more. Not even the poor 
comfort of knowing that his last hours were rendered 
comfortable or where his grave was made, was vouch- 
safed to this distracted mother. Two more brave boys 
of the household were still unheard from, but believed 
to be unhurt, as they were not reported " dead," 
"wounded," or "missing." And yet the noble women 
of this as well as of numberless families so situated in 
every State of the new Confederacy never intermitted, 



58 MEMORIES. 

even for a day, their work for " the soldiers," — left no 
domestic duty unattended to, — in many instances taking 
the place and doing the work of the men wh'om patriot- 
ism had called to the field. 

Much as I admired and revered this " noble army of 
martyrs," I lacked moral courage to emulate their ex- 
ample. Such a life of anxiety and suspense would have 
driven me mad. The pitiful faces of the sick and 
wounded haunted me every hour. I yearned to be 
with them. I felt sure that I was called to this work. 
My health being restored, I could no longer remain idle. 
But where to go, how to begin, I knew not. 

One day there appeared in the Selma paper a letter 
from Surgeon W. T. McAllister, Army of Tennessee, 
describing the dreadful condition of hundreds of sick 
and wounded men, who, after the terrible battle of 
Shiloh and the subsequent evacuation of Corinth, had 
been huddled into hospital-quarters at Grainesville, Ala- 
bama, and inquiring for a "lady" to assist him in organiz- 
ing, and in caring for the sick. Here was a chance for 
me. I applied for the position, and, receiving a favorable 
answer, proceeded without delay to Gainesville, leaving 
my little boy at the plantation in charge of his father's 
relations. 



CHAPTER III. 

BUCKNER HOSPITAL, GAINESVILLE, ALABAMA. 

Had I yielded to the almost irresistible impulse which 
tempted me to fly from the painful scenes and fearful 
discouragements which met me at G-ainesville, Alabama, 
these "Memories" would have remained unwritten. 

I had stipulated that while I would not receive com- 
pensation for nursing sick Confederates, and was quite 
willing to live on the government rations, I must always 
be provided with a sleeping-room in some respectable 
private family, apart from the hospital. This was prom- 
ised ; and this arrangement continued as long as I 
remained at the " Buckner." 

Dr. McAllister, surgeon in charge, being unavoidably 
absent, I was met at the depot by Dr. Minor, assistant 
surgeon. His look of surprise, almost consternation, 
when I appeared gave me an uneasy sensation j but, 
assuming an extra amount of dignity, I calmly accom- 
panied him to a most comfortable-looking house, where 
my room had been engaged. The hostess was unmis- 
takably a lady. I met with a pleasant reception, and 
was soon seated at supper with several officers and their 
wives. During the meal I had an uneasy consciousness 
that curious glances were bent upon me from all sides. 
The evening, however, was spent agreeably. After I 
had gone to ray room, a kind old lady came to me to 
beg that I would reconsider my determination to accept 
the position of matron, but, finding me firm and some- 
what dignified, left me to my fate. 

The next morning, escorted by Dr. Minor, I went 
through the hospital. 

59 



60 



MEMORIES. 



For the first time my heart utterly misgave me, and 
I felt that my courage was inadequate to the task before 
me. I must premise that this was not a State hospital, 
but under the direction of the Confederate Government, 
which, at that time, was full of perplexity and trouble, 
yet, like all new governments, exceedingly tenacious of 
forms. Dr. Minor told me that the time and attention 
of Dr. McAllister had been fully occupied in untying, 
one after another, knots of red tape, and that, so far, 
perfect organization had been impossible. 

I entered the wards expecting to find something of 
the neatness and order which in the Eichmond hospitals 
bad charmed every visitor. 

Alas! alas! were these the brave men who had made 
forever glorious the name of Shiloh ? 

Hospital supplies were scarce ; beds and bedding could 
not be often changed. Here were rooms crowded with 
uncomfortable-looking beds, on which lay men whose 
gangrened wounds gave forth foul odors, which, mingled 
with the terrible effluvia from the mouths of patients 
ill of scurvy, sent a shuddering sickness through my 
frame. In one room were three or four patients with 
faces discolored and swollen out of all semblance of 
humanity by erysipelas, — raging with fever, shouting in 
delirious agony. 

The hospital had formerly been a large hotel, and was 
divided into many rooms, all crowded with sick. The 
wounded men who were not gangrened were carefully 
kept apart from those who were. Some of these were 
frightfully disfigured in the face or head, and pre- 
sented a ghastly appearance. In rooms filled with fever- 
patients old men and mere boys lay helpless, struggling 
with various forms and stages of disease, hoarsely raving, 
babbling sweetly of home, vainly calling remembered 
names, or lying in the fatal stupor which precedes death. 



BUCKNER HOSPITAL. 61 

Although many convalescents paced gloomily up and 
down the halls, or lounged upon the spacious galleries, 
I noticed few male nurses. Perhaps half a dozen women 
met us at the doors of different wards, jauntily dressed, 
airily " showing off" their patients, and discoursing of 
their condition and probable chances of life, in a manner 
utterly revolting to me. I caught many a glance of 
disgust bent upon them by the poor fellows who were 
thus treated as if they were stocks or stones. These 
women were, while under the eye of the surgeon, ob- 
sequious and eager to please, but I thought I saw the 
"lurking devil in their eyes," and felt sure they meant 
mischief. 

Dr. McAllister arrived that night. The next morning 
I was regularly installed. But I could not help feeling 
that there was a reservation of power and authority, a 
doubt of my capacity, due to my youthful appearance. 
Yery helpless and friendless I felt, as, escorted by the 
" surgeon in charge," I once more made the rounds. He 
left me at the door of one of the fever- wards. This I 
entered, and stood for a moment looking upon the scene 
of suffering humanity, wondering how and where to 
begin the work of alleviation. Suddenly a faint voice 
called " Milly ! Oh, Milly !" I turned to meet a pair of 
blue eyes regarding me with a look of pleased recogni- 
tion, although it was at once evident that I had been 
mistaken for some " loved one at home" through the 
delirium of fever. Humoring the fancy, I stepped to 
his bedside and gave my hand to the hot clasp of the 
poor fellow, a man of middle age, whose eyes, fever- 
bright, still devoured my face with a happy look. 
" Howd}', Milly ! I've been looking for you every day. 
I'm mighty glad you've come. The roar of the guns 
has hurt my head powerful. Get some water from the 
far spring and bathe my head, Milly." 

6 



62 MEMORIES. 

It SO happened that one of his own company, of some 
Georgia regiment, a convalescent, had by his own re- 
quest been detailed to nurse the sick man. He soon 
brought me water, and I bathed the hot head, face, and 
hands, until the patient fell asleep. 

This little incident encouraged me greatly. Passing 
on among the sick, I found no lack of work, but sadly 
missed the facilities, comforts, and luxuries which in 
Eichmond had been always at my command. 

Lest it seem strange that such a state of things should 
have existed, I will here ask the reader to remember that 
military movements of tremendous importance were then 
taking place. An immense army was executing, " with 
admirable skill and precision," a change of base. Upon 
this army depended the destinies of a large portion of 
the Confederacy. Means of transportation for the troops 
and their military supplies, including, as an important 
precautionary measure, medical stores, became an im- 
perative necessity. The wounded and sick had also 
been moved, and at least placed under shelter. Sur- 
geons, however, were unable to obtain either suitable 
diet or needed medicines. Eequisitions failed to be 
promptly filled, and hence the state of things I have 
tried to describe. 

Dr. McAllister was absent most of the time in the 
interests of the unfortunates under his charge. Mean- 
time, I struggled to perform my duties among the sick, 
and to exert authority, of which, as I soon discovered, 
I possessed but the semblance. Nothing was left undone 
by the women before referred to to thwart and annoy 
me. They had evidently determined I should not re- 
main there. I had ample evidence that they were 
neglectful and unscrupulous in their dealings with the 
patients. 

In one of the rooms, separated from the other patients, 



BUGKNER HOSPITAL. 63 

I found a man who had been brought in several days 
before, suffering from excessive drinking. Not being 
able to obtain whiskey, he had managed to get hold of a 
bottle of turpentine emulsion' from a table in the hall, 
and had drank the whole. Dr. Minor and I worked for 
hours with this unfortunate and hoped he would recover, 
but other patients required looking after, and during my 
absence whiskey was smuggled in to him, of which he 
partook freely. After that, nothing could save his life. 
A patient suffering agonies from gastritis was also placed 
under my special charge. I was to feed him myself, and 
avoid giving water, except in the smallest quantities. 
I did my best, but he grew worse, and just in time I 
found under his pillow a canteen full of water, which 
had been procured for him by the woman who attended 
in his ward. If I called for a basin of water to wash 
the face and hands of neglected men, one of these 
women would laugh insultingly and say, "Perhaps ye'll 
wait till I get a nagur to bring it to you, or a silver 
waiter." They would insist that the surgeon had ordered 
them to do this or that, and stop to argue against my 
directions, until I was fain to save the sick further noise 
and clamor by leaving the ward. 

Not wishing to begin my work by complaining, or 
reporting to the surgeons these daily-recurring annoy- 
ances, I struggled to hold my own and to break down 
opposition by patient endurance. But one morning the 
" last straw" was added to my burden. I found my 
Georgia soldier apparently dying, — breathing heavily, 
and as cold as death alread}^ His comrade was in 
great distress, but ready to do all in his power, and 
together we went to work in earnest. I sent for brandy 
and a box of mustard. Pouring through the white lips 
spoonful after spoonful of the stimulant, rubbing hands, 
arms, and legs with mustard, applying plasters of the 



64 MEMORIES. 

sarae, as well as bottles of water, to restore warmth to 
the body, I soon had the satisfaction of seeing a faint 
color tinge the cheeks and lips, — the clammy sweat super- 
seded by returning warmth. Working earnestly, think- 
ing of nothing but the human life that hung in the 
balance, I failed to observe the presence of the most 
disagreeable of the female nurses, w^ho was standing, 
with " arms akimbo," looking on, until, with an insult- 
ing leer, she remarked, "It seems to me ye're taking 
great liberties for an honest woman" Paralyzed with 
surprise and indignation, I knew not how to act. Just 
then the surgeon in charge of the ward, who had been 
summoned, appeared. 

After a hasty examination, "Madam," said he, "you 
have saved your patient." 

Leaving the case in his hands, I fled to my room, re- 
solving never to enter the hospital again. Forthwith I 
wrote my resignation, and demanded transportation 
back to Alabama. 

Meantime, the comrade of the sick man had reported 
to the surgeon the whole matter. The next morning I 
received a visit from Surgeons McAllister, Minor, and 

(whose name I am sorry to have forgotten), of the 

ward I had fled from. A letter had been received from 
Dr. Little, of Eichmond, whose name I had given as 
reference. The ill behavior of the nurses having come 
to the knowledge of the surgeon in charge, he at once 
acted with his usual promptness and decision. The ob- 
noxious women had already been discharged and fur- 
nished with transportation to Mobile ; the men who had 
aided and abetted them were ordered to their regiments. 
I was urged to remain, on my own terms, and offered 
a position of trust, responsibility, and honor, — my au- 
thority to be second only to that of surgeon in charge 
in general matters ; in the wards, to that of the ward 



1 



BUCKNER HOSPITAL. 65 

surgeons. Under these circumstances I could not re- 
fuse to withdraw my resignation. 

The next day the work of reorganization commenced. 
Then and there I was invested with full power and 
authority, and received from Dr. McAllister assurances 
of entire confidence and thorough co-operation, which 
were accorded in the highest degree during the whole 
term of my service in the Buckner Hospital, and the 
prestige of which gave me great advantages in other 
fields of labor. 

Aside from profoundest love of " the Cause," and (as 
I firmly believed) the inspiration which directed my 
efforts to serve it, I had nothing to oflTer. "With all 
my soul, with all my heart, with all vaj strength," I was 
ready to serve ; but this would have availed little had 
not my right to do so been oflScially acknowledged, had 
I not acquired power to follow out the dictates of reason 
and heart for the benefit of my patients. 

As the organization begun at Gainesville, and the rules 
and regulations then adopted, were fully perfected soon 
after we reached the next " post," and remained in full 
force as long as the Buckner Hospital existed, it may 
be as well to briefly describe them here. 

Convalescents were turned over to the steward, and 
their meals were attended to by him and his assistants. 
I had only to see that their mess-room was kept in order 
and that their rations were cooked to the best advan- 
tage. For the sick I had my own kitchen, my own 
cooks and other servants, my own store-room, also 
liberty to send out foragers. Every morning I sent to 
each surgeon a list of such diet as I could command for 
the sick. With this in hand he was able to decide 
upon the proper food for each patient. Each bed was 
numbered. The head-nurse kept a small book, into 
which he copied each day's diet-list. He was also ex- 
e 6* 



e6 MEMORIES. 

pected to have ready every morning a fresh piece of 
paper, upon which the surgeon wrote the numbers of 
the beds, and opposite, F. D., H. D., L. D., Y. L. D., or 
S. D. (full diet, half diet, light diet, very light diet, and 
special diet). If special directions were needed, the sur- 
geon brought the list to my business-room. If not, it 
was left with the head-nurse, and when I made my own 
rounds it would be my guide in consulting the tastes 
of the patients themselves as to the kind of food they 
preferred and its preparation. Of all this I made notes. 
I made it a point to feed the very ill patients myself. 
Others were served from a distributing-room, where at 
regular meal-times I always presided, sitting at the end 
of a long table, having a pile of tin numbers before me 
corresponding to the numbers on the beds in the wards. 
There was an under-steward whose business it was to 
supply the plates; also two helpers. The head-nurse 
from Ward No. 1 having come down with his subordin- 
ates would call out, " No. 1, full diet," or as the case 
might be. As the plate was filled, I banded out the 
corresponding number, which was put upon the plate. 
The plates having been placed upon large wooden trays, 
were carried off to the ward. Then came No. 2, and 
so on, all the special patients having been attended to 
previously. 

Everything relating to the bedding, clothing, and the 
personal belongings of the sick and wounded I found 
in a fearful state. In one room down-stairs perhaps 
two or three hundred knapsacks, haversacks, canteens, 
etc., were thrown upon the floor in large piles. No one 
knew to whom they belonged, no one seemed to care, 
and it appeared to me impossible to bring any degree of 
order out of the chaotic mass of wet, half-dry, rough- 
dry, in some cases mildewed clothing lying everywhere 
about. Prompt measures were taken with the washer- 



BUCKNER HOSPITAL. 67 

woman, which resulted, in a day or two, in a procession 
of darkies, each bearing a pile of clothing embracing 
almost every article of men's apparel. A " linen mas- 
ter" having been detailed, a "linen-room" set apart and 
shelved, the articles were placed upon large tables to be 
sorted and piled upon the shelves, ready for reclama- 
tion by the convalescents and others who were not too 
ill to identify their own. Some of these clothes were 
torn and buttonless. My detailed men could not sew. 
The demands of the sick and the duties of general 
supervision left me no time. Taught by my experience 
of the devoted women of Virginia and Alabama, I re- 
solved to visit some of the ladies of G-ainesville, and to 
solicit their aid. The response was hearty and immedi- 
ate. Next day the linen-room was peopled by bright, 
energetic ladies, at whose hands the convalescents 
received their renovated garments with words of 
warm sympathy and encouragement that cheered their 
hearts. 

The lack of clean bedding being made known, these 
generous, patriotic women sent in soft, clean old sheets, 
pillow-slips, etc., also a few old shirts, — some of them 
even bearing with me the horrors of the scurvy and gan- 
grene wards to assist in making the sufferers more com- 
fortable. Details for all purposes were made as soon as 
I asked for them, and as " many hands make light work," 
order and system began to pervade all departments. A 
baggage-master, with several temporary assistants, found 
work for several days in disposing of the knapsacks, 
haversacks, blankets, etc. As fast as they were claimed, 
they were ticketed with the number of the ward and 
bed of the claimant, and piled away to await his return 
to his regiment. Those unreclaimed and known to have 
belonged to the dead were labelled as far as possible 
with the name and date of death, company, and regi- 



68 MEMORIES. 

ment, and stored until friends should come or write for 
them. 

The work of organization was not nearly complete, 
when Dr. McAllister received orders to report with his 
hospital staff at Einggold, Georgia. The sick were to be 
removed elsewhere, — at any rate were not to accompany 
us. Hospital stores would be supplied at Einggold. The 
doctor and his attendants awaited transportation, which 
seemed difficult to obtain. Many bodies of soldiers 
crowded every train, — passenger, freight, and even cattle 
cars. 

Dr. McAllister decided to send his wife and myself by 
private conveyance to Marion, Alabama, to remain there 
until we should receive final directions. Two servants 
belonging to Mrs. McAllister accompanied us. Our kind 
hostess had put up a basket of provisions. 

I took a sad leave of the patients who had become 
so dear to me, and one bright morning we drove rapidly 
out of Gainesville on our way to Marion. 

The ride was a perfect delight, over excellent roads, 
or through aisles of the forest, where the healthful odor 
of the pines perfumed the air, and myriads of birds 
made sweetest music. Stopping beside some sparkling 
spring to lunch and dine, chatting gayly all day, growing 
thoughtful and silent, as, borne upon the breeze of even- 
ing, there came to us the whispering voices of memory, 
renewing the sorrow of parting, awakening afresh 
anxious fears for the absent. 

We slept at any house along the road where night 
overtook us, always expecting and finding a welcome. 
In these homes, as everywhere else over the South, 
sorrow and care had taken up their abode. Haggard, 
weary-looking women, from whose hearts and homes 
joy had departed with the dear ones who had gone forth 
to battle, plied us with eager questions. We related to 



BVCKNER HOSPITAL. 69 

them all we knew of military movements. But it was 
very little, and we could give them no tidings of their 
own. 

The third day brought us to Marion, where, at the 
pleasant home of Mrs. McAllister, we awaited further 
orders. 

I have very pleasant recollections of Marion, and of 
the elegant homes where I was so delightfully enter- 
tained. But already love for my chosen work had 
reached (so people told me) the height of infatuation. 
Between me and every offered pleasure appeared the 
pale, reproachful faces of the suffering soldiers. My 
place was beside them, and I longed for the summons. 

A letter from Dr. McAllister to his wife announced the 
establishment of a hospital post in Einggold, G-eorgia, but 
counselled our waiting until "things could be straight- 
ened out." I could not wait, so left the same evening, 
arriving in time to organize my own department, which, 
as the assistants had not been changed, and fell easily 
into their places, was not so difficult as at Gainesville. 
Besides, we received a fair supply of hospital stores, and 
were enabled to make patients very comfortable. 



CHAPTEE lY. 

RINGGOLD. 

The hospitals established at Einggold, Georgia, early 
in the fall of 1862, received the wounded and the not 
less serious cases of typhoid fever, typhoid pneumonia, 
dysentery, and scurvy resulting from almost unparal- 
leled fatigue, exposure, and every kind of hardship in- 
cident to Bragg's retreat from Kentucky. These sick 
men were no shirkers, but soldiers brave and true, who, 
knowing their duty, had performed it faithfully, until 
little remained to them but the patriot hearts beating 
almost too feebly to keep soul and body together. The 
court-house, one church, warehouses, stores, and hotels 
were converted into hospitals. Eow after row of beds 
filled every ward. Upon them lay wrecks of humanity, 
pale as the dead, with sunken eyes, hollow cheeks and 
temples, long, claw-like hands. Oh, those poor, weak, 
nerveless hands used to seem to me more pitiful than 
all ; and when I remembered all they had achieved and 
how they had lost their firm, sinewy proportions, their 
strong grasp, my heart swelled with pity and with pas- 
sionate devotion. Often I felt as if I could have held 
these cold hands to my heart for warmth, and given of 
my own warm blood to fill those flaccid veins. 

Every train brought in squads of just such poor fel- 
lows as I have tried to describe. How well I remember 
them toiling painfully from the depot to report at 
the surgeon's office, then, after being relieved of their 
accoutrements, tottering with trembling limbs to the 
beds from which, perhaps, they would never more 
arise. This hospital-post, as nearly as I remember, com- 
70 



RINGGOLD. 71 

prised only two hospitals, the Bragg and the Buckner. 
Of the Bragg, Dr. S. M. Bemis was surgeon in charge ; 
assistant surgeons, Grore, of Kentucky; Hewes, of 
Louisville, Kentucky ; Welford, of Virginia ; Eedwood, 
of Mobile, Alabama, and some others whose names I 
cannot now recall. Dr. "W. T. McAllister was surgeon 
in charge of the Buckner. Of the assistant surgeons 
I can only remember Dr. W. S. Lee, then of Florida, 
now a successful practitioner and an honored citizen of 
Dallas, Texas; Dr. K. D. Jackson, of Selma, Alabama, 
who since the war has lived a well-beloved physician 
and druggist in Summerfield, Alabama ; Dr. Eeese, also 
of Alabama, and Dr. Yates, of Texas, now dead. For 
a few months Dr. Francis Thornton, of Kentucky, was 
surgeon of the post. He was a fiery, impetuous, manly 
man, a rigid disciplinarian, but always compelled to 
fight against the dictates of his large, warm heart when 
duty compelled him to execute severe justice. 

Mrs. Thornton was one of the most lovable women I 
ever knew; impulsive and earnest in her friendship, 
of a sunny, cheerful temperament seldom clouded. Her 
pride in her husband and her happiness in being with 
him was pleasant to see. While she remained in King- 
gold we were warm friends. To her thoughtful kind- 
ness I owed many an indulgence in dainties not supplied 
by the Confederate Government. My room was in the 
same house where the surgeons and their wives were 
boarding. Often returning late from the hospital, 
weary and dispirited, her sweet voice would *' halV^ me at 
the foot of the stairs, a kindly arm impelling me to her 
cheerful room, where a cup of tea and a nice little sup- 
per was in readiness, made far more enjoyable by her 
loving service and pleasant talk so full of cheer. The 
other ladies were just as kind-hearted, but none had the 
sweet, winning grace that characterized Mrs. Thornton, 



72 MEMORIES. 

except, perhaps, Mrs. Lee, wife of the surgeon above 
mentioned. She was also one of the dearest and kind- 
est of friends. My enthusiasm in regard to Mrs. Lee 
was almost like that of a lover. She was a beautiful 
woman, tall, majestic, graceful, towards the world at 
large dignified and, perhaps, a little reticent ; to those 
whom she honored with her love or friendship, irresist- 
ibly fascinating. Her eyes were — not magnificent, but 
just " the sweetest ever seen," and combined with a per- 
fect mouth to make her smile a caress. In addition, 
rare intelligence and fine conversational powers rendered 
her a delightful companion. Dr. Lee waS by birth a 
South Carolinian, a polished gentleman, and, though in 
general self-contained and of quiet manners, proved a 
warm friend and a most pleasant host. Mrs. Lee used 
to search for me through the wards, and, having found 
me, would flourish a "prescription," made out in due 
form, for " an hour of leisure, to be repeated twice every 
week before retiring." These hours spent at the pleas- 
ant quarters of Dr. and Mrs. Lee were, indeed, " a feast 
of reason and a flow of soul," often diversified by funny 
experiments in disguising the remains of the day's ra- 
tions by cooking recipes familiar in ante-bellum days, 
but which generally failed because substitutes would 
never produce the same results as the real ingredients. 

Dr. Lee was some months afterwards transferred to 
Cherokee Springs as surgeon in charge of one of the 
convalescent hospitals, of which Mrs. Lee volunteered 
to act as matron. We parted with real regret, but truly 
her patients gained by our loss. For she was most com- 
petent, faithful, and well-beloved by those to whom she 
ministered. 

The autumn passed quickly, some pretty severe days 
giving us a foretaste of the rigor of a winter in North 
Georgia. By November 1 it was not only bitterly cold, 



RINGGOLD. 73 

but snow covered the ground to the depth of six inches, 
and the roads were furrowed and frozen. Terrible 
accounts reached us from Bragg's army, who were with- 
out shoes, blankets, or clothes, and suffering fearfully. 
OflScers and men were alike destitute. General Patton 
Anderson determined to make an effort to supply his 
division, and for this purpose selected Lieutenant J. A. 
Chalaron, Fifth Company, Washington Artillery, as one 
in every way qualified to carry out such an undertaking, 
who was therefore ordered to Savannah and other places 
to secure the needed supplies. 

He cheerfully accepted the charge, although it involved 
deprivation of the rest so greatly needed, and the con- 
tinuance of hardship already extended almost beyond 
human endurance. But the young officer was every 
inch a soldier, and one of a company which had already 
won a name for itself not less for invincible courage 
than for soldierly bearing and devotion to duty. That 
so young a soldier was selected to conduct such an 
undertaking proved how surely he had deserved and won 
the confidence of his superior ofiicers. In those days 
railroad travelling was far from pleasant. The train upon 
which Lieutenant Chalaron embarked at Knoxville was 
a motley afi^air, — perhaps a single passenger-car, rough 
and dilapidated (crowded with those who, though ill, 
made shift to sit up or recline upon the seats), box-cars 
and cattle-cars filled with suffering men helplessly sick. 
In order that these might not be crowded, Lieutenant 
Chalaron, with one or two others, rode on the top of a 
box-car for twelve hours, from Knoxville to Chattanooga, 
exposed to the inclement weather which he was ill pre- 
pared to meet, having shared the inexpressible hardships 
of the Kentucky campaign, including destitution of suit- 
able clothing. I take pleasure in recording this noble 
act, because Lieutenant Chalaron was from New Orleans 
D 7 



74 MEMORIES. 

(also my own beloved home). The impulse of self- 
sacrifice, and of chivalrous devotion towards the helpless 
and suffering, sprung from a heart pulsating with the 
knightly blood of the Creole of Louisiana. Ah, that 
impetuous blood which stirred at the first call to arms, 
which was poured out in continual libations to South- 
ern liberty, from the time it gushed from the breast of 
the first martyr of the war (our Charlie Dreux), until 
almost in the "last ditch," piled high with masses of 
Confederate dead, lay the gory body of Oscar Dreux, 
the very topmost man, proving how invincible was the 
courage that quailed not at the sight of that ghastly 
altar of sacrifice ! 

The large brick court-house in the centre of the town 
of Ringgold was especially devoted to my use. The 
court-room occupying the entire upper floor was fitted 
up for fifty patients. This was facetiously called " the 
nursery," and its occupants " Mrs. Beers's babies." In 
this ward were placed, as far as its capacity permitted, 
patients who needed to be visited very often, and for 
whose proper nourishment and the prompt administra- 
tion of medicine I was responsible. For instance, if 
one of the fever-patients was taking veratrum, I must 
see it dropped and given, and note the pulse. If one 
was just struggling through dysentery, I must attend 
to his nourishment, and generally fed him myself. 
Down-stairs was one large room, and three of good 
size, but smaller. The large one was also a ward. 
My business-room opposite was also the linen-room of 
the hospital. Shelves ran from floor to ceiling, a coun- 
ter in front of them. In one corner stood my desk, and 
beside it a large country rocking-chair ; in another a 
rough lounge for the convenience of visiting patients. 
In front of the immense fireplace (where there was 
always a cheerful fire) stood a table and chairs for the 



RINGGOLD. 75 

surgeons, who came in after each round through the 
wards, to leave special directions and diet-lists. Through 
the day this room was a cheerful place. I seldom en- 
tered it without finding one or more visitors, especially 
in the morning, when the surgeons always met there, 
and their wives generally joined them. On the other 
side of the hall was the distributing-room in one corner, 
in the other a store-room, where, also, under my own 
lock and key, I kept the effects of dead soldiers, labelled 
and ready for identification by their friends. I was 
assisted in this work, in keeping the linen-room in 
order, and in various other ways, by a young G-erman 
who had been detailed for that purpose. He was a 
well-educated young man and a fine musician, — in fact, 
had been a professor of music before the war, had en- 
tered the service intelligently, desiring to remain in 
active service, but some disability caused his detail. 
His position was no sinecure : he was expected to keep 
a full account of all stores in my department, all bed- 
ding, hospital clothing, all clothing of the patients, and 
a great many other things, having full charge of the 
laundry and the laundresses, with whom he was always 
in " hot water." For this reason he was dubbed by the 
surgeons General Blandner, and his employees were 
called Blandnefs Brigade. He was methodical in all 
things. His books were exquisitely kept. I had been a 
good musician, and now used often to sing to Blandner's 
lute, which he played in a masterly manner. His im- 
provisations were a great delight to me, and, finding me 
so appreciative, he composed a lovely set of waltzes, 
" The Hospital Waltzes'' which were dedicated to me, but 
never published, only exquisitely written out on pieces 
of wall-paper by the composer. After the war, Mr. 
Blandner obtained through Dr. McAllister the position 
of professor of music at the female college at Marion, 



76 MEMORIES. 

Alabama, but removed later to Philadelphia, where he 
now resides, still as a professor and teacher of music. 

The cold increased, and the number of patients grew 
larger. Snow and ice rendered it difficult for me to get 
to the wards, as they lay quite far apart. The board- 
ing-house at first occupied by the surgeons' families was 
now vacated and fitted up for officers' wards, a room 
being found for me in a log house, owned by an old lady, 
Mrs. Evans, whose sons, except the youngest, a mere 
lad, were in the Confederate army. 

It was nearly a quarter of a mile from the court- 
house. The road thither, lying through a piece of piney 
woods, was almost always blocked by drifted snow or 
what the Georgians called "slush" (a mixture of mud 
and snow). I must confess that the freezing mornings 
chilled my patriotism a little, but just because it was so 
cold the sick needed closer attention. One comfort 
never failed me : it was the watchful devotion of a 
soldier whom I had nursed in Gainesville, Alabama, and 
who, by his own request, was now permanently attached 
to my sj^ecial corps of " helpers." No matter how cold 
the morning or how stormy, I never opened my door 
but there was " Old Peter" waiting to attend me. When 
the blinding storms of winter made the roads almost 
impassable by night, Peter would await my departure 
from the hospital with his lantern, and generally on 
very stormy nights with an old horse which he bor- 
rowed for the occasion, savagely cutting short my re- 
monstrances with a cross " Faith, is it now or in the 
mornin' ye'll be lavin' ?" He would limp beside me 
quite to the door of my room, and with a rough " Be 
aisy, now," in reply to my thanks, would scramble upon 
the horse and ride back. 

" I know not is he far or near, or that he lives, or is 
he dead," only thiSj that my dreams of the past are often 



RINGGOLD. 77 

haunted by the presence of this brave soldier and hum- 
ble, loyal friend. I seem to see again the lined and 
rugged face (" harsh," others thought, wearing always 
for me a smile which reminded me of the sunlight 
brightening an old gray ruin,) and the toil-hardened 
hands which yet served me so tenderly. I seem to 
hear once more the rich Irish brogue which gave charac- 
ter and emphasis to all he said, a naughty character and 
a most unpleasant emphasis sometimes, I must admit, 
fully appreciated by any who chanced to displease him, 
but to me always as sweet and pleasant as the zephyrs 
blowing from " the groves of Blarney." Peter was an 
Alabama soldier. On the first day of my installation as 
matron of Buckner Hospital, located then at G-aines- 
ville, Alabama, after the battle of Shiloh, I found him 
lying in one of the wards badly wounded, and suffer- 
ing, as were many others, from scurvy. He had been 
morose and fierce to all who approached him. At first 
I fared no better. " Sure, what wad a lady be wantin' 
in a place like this?" said be, crossly. " Why, comrade," 
I replied, " I thought you would like to have a lady to 
nurse you ?" " Divil a wan," growled he, and, drawing 
the coverlid over his face, refused to speak again. I 
felt disheartened for the moment, but after a consulta- 
tion with Dr. McAllister, surgeon in charge, — than 
whom a better disciplinarian or a kinder-hearted man 
never lived, — it was decided that Peter should be in- 
duced or compelled to receive my ministrations. For 
several days, however, he remained sullen and most un- 
willing to be nursed, but this mood softened, and long 
before he was well enough to leave the ward the warm 
Irish heart had melted, and I had secured a friend whose 
unalterable devotion attended me through all the vicissi- 
tudes of the war. 

Being permanently disabled, by reason of his wound, 
7* 



78 MEMORIES. 

from service in the field, Peter was detailed for hospital 
service, and by his own request attached to my special 
corps of assistants. He could and did in a hundred 
ways help me and contribute to my comfort. No matter 
how many times I met him during the day, he never 
passed without giving me a military salute. If I was 
detained by the bedside of one very ill or dying, hoping 
to save life, or at least to receive and treasure " for the 
loved ones at home" some word or message, I was sure 
to hear Peter's limping step and bis loud whisper, 
" Sure it's dying he is ; can't ye lave him in the hands 
av God, an' go to your bed ?" He constituted himself, 
in many cases, my mentor, and deeply resented any 
seeming disrespect towards me. 

I recall a case in point which highly amused the whole 
" post." While located at Einggold, Georgia, it was con- 
sidered desirable to remove some of the convalescents to 
a camp hospital at Cherokee Springs, some three miles 
out of town. It became my duty to see these patients 
QYQvj evening, and I rode out on horseback attended by 
Peter. Eiding into camp one evening, I dismounted 
near a tent in front of which a group of officers were 

standing, in conversation with Dr. , of Kentucky. 

We exchanged a few words of greeting as I passed on to 
attend to my patients. Eeturning, to mount my horse, 
I noticed that Peter rather rudely pushed before Lieu- 
tenant , who came forward to assist me. I also 

noticed that his face wore the old sullen look, and that 
his manner was decidedly unpleasant. Before we had 
gone far, he broke out with, " 'Dade, ma'am, ye'U go 
there no more, if ye plaze." Amazed, I questioned why ? 
" Sure, thim fellers was makin' game av jq an' caUin' 
ye out av yer name." " Why, Peter," cried I, " you are 
crazy : who called me names, and what did they call me ?" 
" Thim offshurs, ma'am. Sure, I couldn't make out their 



RINGGOLD. 79 

furrin worruds, but I belave 'tis a sinner they called ye. 
Faith, an' if ye're a sinner, where wad the saints be ?" 
Of course, woman-like, I became furious, and, on our 
arrival at headquarters, indignantly reported the " off- 
shurs" to the surgeon in charge, who promised to in- 
vestigate. 

The sequel is most amusing. It turned out that Peter 
had overheard a conversation between the officers above 

mentioned and Dr. . They having made some 

kindly remark as to my hospital service. Dr. as 

kindly replied, " Yes, she is a sine qua non." My 
amusement was mingled with chagrin at my hasty 
anger, but Peter remained unconvinced and never for- 
gave the offenders. Upon another occasion I was com- 
pelled to interfere to protect an innocent victim of Peter's 
wrath. One of my " boys" about returning to his com- 
mand came to take leave of me and to offer a little keep- 
sake. This was, or appeared to be, a crochet-needle 
prettily carved and having one end fringed out. I took it 
with thanks, saying, " I hope I may use this needle to 
crochet a pair of mittens for you." Cried the donor, 
"That ain't no crochet-needle." "No? Well, what is it?" 
"It is a dipping-stick; don't you chaw snuff?" Upon 
my indignant denial, the crestfallen man exclaimed, 
" Well, Lor', lady, I made sure you did, you're so yaller 
complected" (I had shortly before recovered from an 
attack of jaundice). Now, it chanced that Peter, 
knowing my fondness for a pine-knot fire, had collected 
a* quantity of knots, which he just then brought in, and, 
hearing the uncomplimentary remark of my soldier- 
friend, turned upon him with the utmost fury, and such 
a tirade of abuse as followed baffles alike my power to 
recall the words or to describe the rage which prompted 
them. I was compelled to interfere and order Peter 
out of the room. 



80 MEMORIES. 

" When, in the course of human events," those who 
for four years had shared the fortunes of war separated 
to seek their several homes, I lost sight of my devoted 
friend. 

He was ^^Old Peter" then, and, in all probability, no 
longer lives, save in my memory. If he be dead, 
"peace to his ashes." If living, may God bless and 
sustain him in the days that are " full of trouble." 
* H« * * * * * 

In the midst of this terrible winter, on one of the 
most bitter days, there came about noon an order from 
" the front" to prepare for two hundred sick, who would 
be down late the same night. There was not a bed to 
spare in either of the hospitals. Negotiations were at 
once opened for the only church in Ringgold not al- 
ready occupied by the sick. The people declined to give 
it up. But, " necessity knows no law ;" it was seized 
by Dr. Thornton, the pews being taken out and piled 
up in the yard. Fires were then kindled in both stoves 
to thoroughly warm the church. There was, however, 
not a single bunk, — no time to make any ; all the empty 
ticks when filled with straw and placed upon the floor 
fell far short of the number required. For the rest 
straw was littered down as if for horses, and when the 
pillows gave out, head-rests were made by tearing off 
the backs of the pews and nailing them slantwise from 
the base-board to the floor, so that knapsacks, coats, 
etc., could be used for pillows. 

The order had reached Einggold about noon ; it was 
ten at night before the rough preparations were com- 
pleted. Meantime, such nourishment as hot soup, coff'ee, 
and tea, milk, egg-nog, and milk-punch (prepared with 
home-made peach or apple brandy), were kept in readi- 
ness. Near midnight I stood in the church awaiting 
the arrival of the train. Candles were scarce, but light- 



RINGGOLD. 81 

wood-fires outside gave sufficient light. The candles 
were not to be used until needed by the surgeons, who 
were now at the depot waiting to receive the sick. At 
last the train arrived, — departed; shortly thereafter 
there poured through the doors of that little church a 
train of human misery such as I never saw before or 
afterward during the war, and pray God I may never 
see again. Until that night the tale of the retreat from 
Moscow had seemed to me overdrawn ; ever since I can 
well believe " the half has not been told." They came, 
each revealing some form of acute disease, some totter- 
ing, but still on their feet, others borne on stretchers. 
Exhausted by forced marches over interminable miles of 
frozen ground or jagged rocks, destitute of rations, dis- 
couraged by failure, these poor fellows had cast away 
one burden after another until they had not clothes 
sufficient to shield them from the chilling blasts of 
winter. Not one in twenty had saved even a haversack, 
many having discarded coats and jackets. One man 
bad gained possession of an india-rubber overcoat, 
which, excepting his underclothing, was his only gar- 
ment. Barefooted, — their feet were swollen frightfully, 
and seamed with fissures so large that one might lay a 
finger in them. These were dreadfully inflamed, and 
bled at the slightest touch ; others were suppurating. 
The feet of some presented a shining, inflamed surface 
which seemed ready to burst at any moment. Their 
hands were just as bad, covered with chilblains and 
sores. Many were tortured with wounds which had at 
first seemed slight, but by neglect and exposure had 
become sources of exquisite torture. The gleaming 
eyes, matted hair and beard hanging about their 
cadaverous faces, gave to these men a wild, ghastly look 
utterly indescribable. As they came in, many sunk ex- 
hausted upon the pallets, some falling at once into a 
/ 



82 MEMORIES. 

deep sleep, from which it was impossible to arouse them, 
others able only to assume a sitting posture on account 
of the racking, rattling cough which, when reclining, 
threatened to suffocate them. Few would stop to be 
undressed : food and rest were all they craved. Those 
who crowded to the stoves soon began to suffer from 
their frozen feet and hands, and even ran out into the 
snow to ease their pain. The surgeons worked faith- 
full}^, and the whole force was in requisition. But, alas ! 
alas! death also was busy among these unfortunates. 
The very first man I essayed to feed died in my arms, 
two others during the night. The poor wounded feet 
I tried to handle so tenderly bled at every touch. The 
warmth of the room, while it sent some into a sound 
sleep which seemed death's counterpart, caused terrible 
agony to others, who groaned and screamed. It seemed 
to me just as if these men, having previously kept up 
with heroic fortitude under trials almost too great for 
human endurance, had, as soon as the terrible tension 
was loosened, utterly succumbed, forgetting all but the 
horrible pain that racked them. 

Fever running riot in the veins of some found ex- 
pression in delirious shouts and cries, which added to the 
horror. My courage almost failed me. About half-past 
two. Dr. Thornton, yielding to my earnest entreaties, 
went home and brought Mrs. Thornton to share my vigil, 
although, as a general thing, he was opposed to her going 
into the hospital wards. Together we labored through 
that long night. Soon after daylight next morning, 
passing into the church porch, we stood for a few mo- 
ments silently, hand in hand, for, although both hearts 
were too full for speech, our labor of love had drawn us 
very near together. 

Everywhere the snow lay white and glittering. In 
the church-yard, upon some of the pews arranged for 



RINGGOLD. • 83 

the purpose, had been placed the lifeless bodies of the 
three men who had died during the night. There they 
lay, stark and stiff. Upon these cold, dead faces no 
mourners' tears would fall; no friends would bear with 
reverend tread these honored forms to their last resting- 
place. Eough pine boxes would soon cover the faces 
once the light of some far-away home, careless hands 
would place them in their shallow graves, without a 
prayer, without a tear. Only the loving hand of nature 
to plant flowers above them. 

For months after entering the service I insisted upon 
attending every dead soldier to the grave and reading 
over him a part of the burial-service. But it had now 
become impossible. The dead were past help ; the living 
always needed succor. But no soldier ever died in my 
presence without a whispered prayer to comfort his 
parting soul. Ah me ! The " prayers for the sick, and 
those near unto death," are to this day more familiar to 
me than any other portion of the Prayer-Book, and at 
no time can I hear unmoved the sacred old hymns so 
often sung beside dying beds. Passing to my office 
along the path traversed last night by the incoming 
soldiers, I found the snow along the whole distance 
stained by their bare, bleeding feet, and the sight made 
my heart ache sorely. I think I never in all my life felt 
so keen a sense of utter dependence upon a higher 
Power, or understood so thoroughly how " vain is the 
help of man," than when, in the seclusion of my own 
room, the events of the night passed in review before 
me. With a heart aching with supreme pity, ready to 
make any sacrifice for the noble martyrs who, for my 
sake as well as for that of all Southern women, had 
passed unshrinking through inexpressible suffering, never 
faltering until laid low by the hand of disease, — I could 
yet do nothing. I could not save them one moment of 



84 MEMORIES. 

agony, I could not stay the fleeting breath, nor might I 
intermit the unceasing care imperatively demanded by 
those whom timely ministrations might save, to give due 
honor to the dead. 

Only an hour or two of rest (broken like the sleep of 
those of a household who retire from the side of beloved 
sufferers, leaving them to the care of others while they 
snatch a few moments of the repose which is needed to 
prepare them for fresh exertions) and I was once more 
on my way to the wards. At the gate of the boarding- 
house stood one of the nurses. Again, as often before, 
I was summoned to a bed of death. A soldier who had 
come in only two days before almost in the last stages 
of pneumonia was now dying. I had left him at eight 
o'clock the night before very ill, but sleeping under the 
influence of an opiate. His agony was now too terrible 
for any alleviation ; but he had sent for me ; so I stood 
beside him, answering by every possible expression of 
sympathy his imploring glances and the frantic clasp of 
his burning hand. Finding that my presence was a 
comfort, I sent for Dr. McAllister, and, requesting him to 
assign my duties to some one else for a while, remained 
at my post, yielding to the restraining grasp which to 
the very last arrested every movement away from the 
side of the sufferer. A companion of the sick man lay 
near. From him I learned the excellent record of this 
3^oung soldier, who, during the frightful " retreat," had 
contracted the cold which culminated in pneumonia, but 
would not consent to leave his regiment until too late. 

I had feared an awful struggle at the last, but the 
death angel was pitiful, bringing surcease of suffering ; 
and so, peacefully sped the soul of John Grant, of the 

Mississippi Eegiment, happily unconscious of the 

end, and murmuring with his last breath, of home and 
mother. 



RINGGOLD. 85 

I remember with great distinctness his face, — suffering 
while he yet struggled with death, — happy and tran- 
quil, when he stood upon the threshold of life eternal. 
Almost the very saddest and most trying portion of my 
Confederate service was just here. Only that my record 
must be faithful, I would fain bid memory pass with 
flying feet and veiled eyes over the scenes of that terrible 
winter at Einggold, when my very soul was steeped in 
pity so painful that every night I was fain to cry out, 
"It is too hard! I cannot bear it!" and every morning 
my heart, yearning over " my boys," gave itself with 
renewed ardor to " the Cause" and its defenders. 

Eeturning to my patients in the church about noon, I 
found a change for the better in many cases ] in others 
it was but too evident that days, even hours, were 
numbered. Two soldiers in particular attracted my at- 
tention. One was an Irishman, of an Alabama regiment, 
the other from Arkansas. The Irishman was fast pass- 
ing away, and earnestly desired to see a priest. There 
was none nearer than twelve miles. One of our foragers, 
himself a Eoman Catholic, volunteered to go for him 
and by permission of Dr. McAllister rode off through the 

snow, returning after nightfall to report that Father 

had been called in another direction, and would not 
return home until the next day. Finding the poor fel- 
low, though almost too far gone to articulate, constantly 
murmuring words of prayer, I took his prayer-book 
and read aloud the " Eecommendation of a soul depart- 
ing," also some of the preceding prayers of the " Litany 
for the dying." He faintly responded, and seemed to die 
comforted and satisfied. Afterwards I never hesitated 
to use the same service in like cases. 

The Arkansian was a devoted soldier and a pronounced 
" rebel." He had preserved through all vicissitudes a 
small Confederate flag, made for him by his little daughter 



^e MEMORIES. 

" Annie," now alas torn and shattered. When he came 
into the church on that terrible night, although almost 
destitute of clothing, he bore the flag safely pinned inside 
of his ragged flannel shirt. A few days afterwards I 
found the poor, emaciated frame propped up in bed, with 
a crumpled sheet of paper spread upon a piece of pine 
board before him, while, with unaccustomed hand and 
unaccustomed brain, he toiled over some verses of poetry 
addressed to " Annie." After a week or two, when he 
lay dying, I received from his hand the flag and the 
verses pinned together, and addressed to "Miss Annie 

," in some part of Arkansas; but as I hoped to 

retain, and finally to deliver safely, the articles so ad- 
dressed, I did not tax my memory with it, and when 
afterwards, in Macon, all my belongings were taken by 
the raiders, I had nothing left to recall the name, and 
only remember one of the verses, which ran thus : 

" Your father fought under this flag, 
This bonny flag so true, 
And many a time, amidst the fray, 

The bullets whistled through 

So, Annie, keep thejlag." 

The verses were headed, " Annie, Keep the Flag," and 
each one ended with the same words. 

The sad days of winter passed slowly away; with the 
spring came changes. Dr. Thornton was ordered to an- 
other post (I had forgotten just where), and of course 
Mrs. Thornton accompanied him. Everybody connected 
with the post regretted their departure, especially the 
loss of Mrs. Thornton, who was a general favorite. We 
had not ceased to miss her when tidings came of Dr. 
Thornton's death, and of the wild grief of the stricken 
wife, which resisted all control. A messenger had been 
despatched to call me to her side. I found her clinging 
to the body of her murdered husband, stained with his 



RINGGOLD. 87 

blood, yet resisting all attempts to remove her. Dr. 
Thornton having severely punished a case of insubor- 
dination, the culprit swore vengeance, and had fulfilled 
his oath in a most complete though cowardly manner. 
Just after dark, as the doctor was sitting at supper with 
his wife, a voice at the gate called his name. He an- 
swered the summons at once, followed closely by Mrs. 
Thornton, who, standing upon the doorsteps, saw and 
heard the murderous blow which laid him dead at her 
feet, stabbed to the heart. For many hours horror and 
grief dethroned the reason of the wife. After I had 
persuaded her to go to her room, she continually in- 
sisted upon washing her hands, which she shudderingly 
declared were red with his blood. Subsequently she 
struggled successfully for composure, pitifiill}^ saying, 
"He liked me to be brave ; I will try,'' and with remark- 
able fortitude she bore up through the trying ordeal 
which followed. In my ministration to Mrs. Thornton 
I was assisted by a lady whose name is well known and 
well beloved by the soldiers of the Army of Tennessee, 
— Mrs. Frank Newsome. Of remarkable beauty, sweet 
and gentle manners, deeply religious, and carrying the 
true spirit of religion into her work, hers was indeed an 
angelic ministry. We had never met before, but in the 
days of my early girlhood I had known her husband, 
Frank JiTewsome, of Arkansas, who, with Eandal Gibson, 
of Louisiana, Tom Brahan, of Alabama, and my own hus- 
band (then my lover), studied together under a tutor in 
preparation for the junior class of Yale College ; they 
were room-mates at a house in the same village where 
my mother resided, and I had known them very well. 
Dr. Newsome had died some time before, but his having 
once been my friend proved a bond of sympathy be- 
tween his widow and myself Although our pleasant 
intercourse was never again renewed, I continued 



88 ' MEMORIES. 

through the years of the war to hear accounts of Mrs. 
Newsome's devotion to the Confederate soldiers. Duty 
requiring my presence at the- hospital, I was compelled 
to leave Mrs. Thornton, who soon after returned to 
Kentucky. I never met her again, but remember her 
with unchanged affection. 

Dr. Gamble, of Tallahassee, Florida, succeeded Dr. 
Thornton as surgeon of the post at Einggold. He was 
one of the most thorough gentlemen I ever knew, as 
courteous to the humblest soldier as to General Bragg, 
who was then and during the summer a frequent visitor. 
His wife lay for some months very ill at some point 
near Einggold. Mrs. Gamble, who, with her lovely 
children, was domiciled at Cherokee Springs, three miles 
distant, was also a delightful addition to our little circle. 
She was thoroughly accomplished, of charming manners, 
although perfectly frank and outspoken. Her musical 
talent was exceptional, and her lovely voice, coined into 
Confederate money, was freely given in aid of all chari- 
table objects. She was a frequent visitor at my office, 
walking into town in the evening to ride out with her 
husband. During the summer, Mrs. Bragg passed many 
days of convalescence at the lovely cottage-home of Dr. 
and Mrs. Gamble, at Cherokee Springs, but she was 
quite too feeble to come into town very often. Re- 
ligious services were frequently held in the beautiful 
grove at the Springs ; these I attended as often as I 
could be spared, Mrs. Gamble always sending for me 
and sending me back in the ambulance. Later a con- 
valescent camp was established there, and then I rode 
out on horseback every evening to look after my " boys," 
until the transfer of Dr. Lee as surgeon in charge and 
Mrs. Lee as matron rendered my services no longer 
necessary. Yery pleasant memories cluster about the 
room in the court-house at Einggold assigned to my 



RINGGOLD. 89 

special use. I often seem to hear once more the sweet 
music of " General Blandner's lute," sometimes accom- 
panied by the clear soprano of Mrs. Gamble, sometimes 
by our blended voices. I remember as distinctly as if 
it were only yesterday the kindly faces and cheerful 
voices that smiled upon and greeted me as I ran in 
from the wards to take a few moments' rest. I had 
collected and kept on the shelves in my ofSice a great 
many books for the use of convalescents, who were my 
most constant visitors. The mantelpiece was decorated 
with articles of curious workmanship and miracles of 
beautiful carving (the gifts of my patients), variously in- 
scribed. There were cups and saucers, with vines run- 
ning over and around them, boxes which simulated 
books, paper-cutters, also rings made of gutta-percha 
buttons, with silver hearts let in like mosaic. I was 
as proud of them as a queen of her crown-jewels, and 
always kept them on exhibition with the precious notes 
of presentation attached. Had I retained possession of 
these treasures, I would have proudly bequeathed them 
to my children; but, alas! these, like everything else, 
fell into the hands of raiders. Many officers of distinc- 
tion visited my little sanctum, — not only surgeons from 
other posts, but men of military distinction, clergymen, 
and others. General Bragg came frequently for a time, 
also Bishop Beckwith, and many others whose faces 
come to me while their names elude the grasp of 
memory. I welcomed them all alike, for I have never 
felt a prouder heart-throb in the presence of an officer, 
no matter how exalted his rank, than while viewing 
the shadowy forms of my convalescents or answering 
their earnest greetings as they passed in and out of my 
office, or rested awhile in my one easy-chair, or, still 
better, came with buoyant step and bright eyes to bid 
me farewell when ready to report for duty, never fail- 

8* 



90 MEMORIES. 

ing to leave with me the " God bless you !" so precious to 
my soul. 

Some of the poor fellows who were wounded at the 
battle of Murfreesboro' now began to suffer from gan- 
grene. Tents were pitched outside the hospital for 
such cases, and it was often my fate to stand beside 
these sufferers while the surgeon removed unhealthy 
granulation with instruments or eating acids, or in 
other ways tortured the poor fellows to save life. 

The establishment of an officers' ward added to my 
cares. As in most cases they were waited upon by their 
own servants, I could do a great deal by proxy. If any 
were very ill, however, as often was the case, I attended 
them myself. Among those w^hom I nursed in Kinggold 
was Captain E. John Ellis, of Louisiana. If I am not 
mistaken, he had been slightly wounded at the battle of 
Murfreesboro'. At any rate, he was for a time very ill 
of pneumonia, and received all his nourishment from 
my hand. Often since the war, as I have seen him 
standing with majestic mien and face aglow with grand 
and lofty thoughts, or have listened spellbound to 
the thrilling utterances of "the silver-tongued orator," 
memory, bidding me follow, has led me back to a lowly 
room where, bending over a couch of pain, I saw the 
same lips, fevered and wan, open feebly to receive a few 
spoonfuls of nourishment. " Aye ! and that tongue of 
his which now bids nation mark him and write his 
speeches in their books" cried faintly, " Give me some 
drink." 

Captain Ellis recovered rapidly, but insisted on re- 
joining his command while yet pale and weak. 

The incident I shall here relate is intended to illus- 
trate and emphasize the thoroughly gentlemanly quali- 
ties of our Southern soldiers, their unvarying respect 
and courtesy toward women, and their entire apprecia- 



RINGGOLD. 91 

tion and perfect understanding of my own position among 
them. I presume all will comprehend my meaning when 
I assure them that the occasion referi^ed to was the only 
one during four years of service when even an unpleas- 
antness occurred. In the same ward with Captain Ellis 

were three officers, — one, Colonel , of Alabama (very 

ill), another just able to sit up, and one, Lieutenant Cox, 
of Mississippi, only suffering from a bad cold which had 
threatened pneumonia. My constant habit was to carry 
into the wards a little basket containing pieces of fresh 
linen, sponges, and a bottle of Confederate bay-water 
(vinegar). Invariably I bathed the faces and hands of 
the fever-patients with vinegar and water, but as soon 
as they were well enough to dispense with it gave it up. 
One day, upon entering the ward above mentioned, I 
found Captain Ellis up and standing before the fire, his 
back towards it. It struck me at once that he looked 
worried, and at the same time appeared to be strug- 
gling between vexation and a desire to laugh. Lieuten- 
ant Cox was covered up in bed, rolling and holding his 
head, seemingly in dreadful agony. Approaching, I 
asked a question or two regarding his sudden seizure, 
but he only cried, " Oh, my head ! my head !" at the same 
time shaking as if with a violent chill. Turning down 
the sheet, I placed my hand upon his head, which was 
quite cool. As soon as I caught a glimpse of his face, 
I saw that he was laughing, and, glancing at the others, 
realized that all were full of some joke. Drawing my- 
self up haughtily, I said, " I see I have made a mistake; 
I came here to nurse gentlemen ; I shall not again lend 
myself to your amusement," and out I swept, nor ever 
while in Einggold entered the officers' quarters again, 
except to nurse very sick or dying men. It seems that 
Lieutenant Cox had received a box from home con- 
taining, among other dainties, a bottle of home-made 



92 MEMORIES. 

wine. One day be said to the other occupants of the 
ward, " Mrs. Beers never bathes my head. I believe I'll 
get up a spell of fever, and see if I can't get nursed 
like you other fellows." The others declared that he 
could not deceive me, and he offered to bet the bottle of 
wine that he would have me bathe his head at my next 
visit. The result has been described. I had hardly 
reached my office, when a special patient and friend of 
mine, Charlie Gazzan, of Mobile, Alabama, arrived with 
an apology from Lieutenant Cox, a few words of explan- 
ation from Captain Ellis, signed by all the officers in the 
ward, and the bottle of wine, sent for my acceptance. I 
would not accept the wine or read the note, and in this 
course I was upheld by Dr. McAllister, who severely 
reprimanded Lieutenant Cox, and excused me from 
future attendance upon that ward. 

I have said that Charlie Cazzan was a special patient 
and friend ; perhaps the expression needs explanation. 
A few weeks before, he had been brought to me one 
night from the ambulance-train, a living skeleton, and 
seemingly at the point of death from dysentery. His 
family and that of my husband were residents of 
Mobile, Alabama, and intimate friends. He seemed 
almost in the agony of death, but had asked to be 
brought to me. There was not, after the battle of Mur- 
freesboro', a single vacant bed. He begged hard not to 
be put in a crowded ward, so, until I could do better, he 
was placed upon the lounge in my office. One small 
room in the officers' ward being vacant, I asked and 
obtained next day the privilege of placing him there. 
He recovered very slowly, but surely, and during his 
convalescence made himself useful in a hundred ways. 
My sick boys owed many a comfort to his wonderful 
powers of invention ; even the surgeons availed them- 
selves of his skill. He often relieved me of a task I 



1 



RINGGOLD. 93 

nad sometimes found very wearisome, because so con- 
stantly recurring, — that of writing letters for the sick. 
He made his own pens and his own ink, of a deep green 
color, and seemingly indelible. A more gentle, kindly, 
generous nature never existed, and yet his soldierly 
instincts were strong, and almost before he could walk 
about well he " reported for duty," but was soon rele- 
gated to his room and to special diet. 

Spring proved hardly less disagreeable in Upper 
G-eorgia than winter had been. The mud was horrible, 
and I could not avoid it, as the wards were detached, 
occupying all together a very wide space. The pony 
was no longer available, because he splashed mud all 
over me. Old Peter brought me one day an immense 
pair of boots large enough for me to jump into when 
going from one place to another, and to jump out of 
and leave at the entrance of the sick wards. With 
these, an army blanket thrown over my shoulders and 
pinned with a thorn, and my dress kilted up like a 
washerwoman's, I defied alike the liquid streets and the 
piercing wind. My " nursery" was at this time filled to 
overflowing. My mind's eye takes in every nook and 
corner of that large room. It is very strange, but true, 
that I remember the position of each bed and the faces 
of those who lay there at different times. As I said 
before, they were principally the youngest patients, or 
those requiring constant supervision. I seem to see 
them now, lying pale and worn, their hollow eyes look- 
ing up at me as I fed them or following with wistful 
gaze my movements about the ward. Some bear ghastly 
wounds, others sit upon the side of the bed, trembling 
with weakness, yet smiling proudly because they can do 
so much, and promising soon to pay me a visit down- 
stairs, " if I can make it ; but I'm powerful weak right 
now" I remember two brave Texas boys, brothers, 



94 MEMORIES. 

both wounded at Murfreesboro', who lay side by side iri' 
this ward. One of them was only fifteen years old. 
When he was brought in, it was found that a minie- 
ball had penetrated near the eye, and remained in the 
wound, forcing the eye entirely from the socket, causing 
the greatest agony. At first it was found difficult to 
extract it, and it proved a most painful operation. I 
stood by, and his brother had his cot brought close so 
that he could hold his other hand. Not a groan did the 
brave boy utter, but when it was over, and the eye 
replaced and bandaged, he said, " Doctor, how soon can 1 
go hack to my regiment V Poor boyl he did go back 
in time to participate in the battle of Chickamauga, 
where he met his death. Twenty years after, I met his 
brother at a reunion of Confederate soldiers, in Dallas, 
Texas, and he could hardly tell me for weeping that 
Eddie had been shot down at his side while gallantly 

charging with the Texas Cavalry. Another youth, 

Eoundtree, of Alabama, lingered in that ward for 

many weeks, suffering from dysentery, and, I believe, 
was finally discharged. 

Dr. Gore, of Kentucky, took the deepest interest in 
my nursery, and sometimes asked permission to place 
young friends of his own there, a compliment which 
I highly appreciated. Dr. Gore was one of Nature's 
noblemen. In his large, warm heart there seemed to 
be room for everybody. His interest in his patients 
was very keen, and his skill greatly enhanced by extreme 
tenderness and unfailing attention. He was an earnest 
Christian (a Methodist, I believe), but upon one occasion 
I saw him so excited and distressed that he " fell from 
grace," and gave vent to a fearful imprecation. He had 
brought to me a boy of seventeen very ill of dysentery. 
For days it seemed that he must die. Dr. Gore and I 
watched him and nursed him as if he had been very 



RINGGOLD. 95 

near and dear. A slight improvement showed itself at 
last, and of course his craving for food was insatiate. 
As this was a special ward, the nurses had been forbidden 
to admit visitors without a permit, and no stranger was 
ever allowed to feed the patients except when some 
particularly nourishing and suitable food was brought, 
when I used to take a great delight in the mutual 
pleasure of patient and visitor, hardly knowing which 
was more happy, the giver or receiver. Our sick boy 
continually craved and talked about some " apple turn- 
overs,'' such as his mother used to make, but of course was 
denied. One day, during my absence, an old lady gained 
access to the ward, and when she heard the boy's de- 
sire for " turn-overs" promised him some. The next day 
she foynd an opportunity to keep her promise. At mid- 
night. Dr. G-ore and I having been hastily summoned, 
met at the bedside of the poor fellow, who was in a 
state of collapse, and died before morning. Dr. Gore was 
so overcome that he actually we]3t. The boy had been 
a patient of his from his infancy, and in a piteous letter, 
which I afterwards read, his mother had implored the 
doctor to watch over him in case of sickness. "When, 
under the dead boy's pillow, was found a portion of the 
apple-pie, revealing the cause of his death, the doctor's 
anger knew no bounds, and he gave vent to the impre- 
cation above mentioned. 

As the summer waned, our commissary stores began 
to fail. Eations, always plain, became scant. Our for- 
agers met with little success. But for the patriotic 
devotion of the families whose farms and plantations 
lay for miles around Einggold (soon, alas ! to fall into 
the ruthless hands of the enemy), even our sickest men 
would have been deprived of suitable food. As it was, 
the supply was by no means sufficient. One day I asked 
permission to try my fortune at foraging, and, having 



96 MEMORIES. 

received it, left Ringgold at daylight next morning, 
returning by moonlight. Stopping at every house and 
home, I told everywhere my tale of woe. There was 
scarcely one where hearths were not lonely, hearts 
aching for dear ones lon^ since gone forth to battle. 
They had heard mischievous and false tales of the sur- 
geons and attendants .of hospitals, and really believed 
that the sick were starved and neglected, while the 
hospital staff feasted upon dainty food. Occasionally, 
perhaps, they had listened to the complaint of some 
" hospital rat," who, at the first rumor of an approaching 
battle, had experienced " a powerful miserj^" in the place 
where a brave heart should have been, and, flying to the 
rear, doubled up with rheumatism and out-groaning all 
the victims of real sickness or horrible wounds, had 
remained huddled up in bed until danger was over. 
After having been deceived a few times by these cowards, 
I became expert at recognizing them, and paid them no 
attention whatever, 1 really believe that in some cases 
it was a physical impossibility for men to face the guns 
on a battle-field, and I have known instances of soldiers 
who deliberately shot off their own fingers to escape a 
fight. These men were conscious of their own defects, 
and often, smarting under a knowledge that the blister- 
ing, purging, and nauseating process pursued in such 
cases by the surgeons was intended as a punishment, 
grew ugly and mischievous, seeking revenge by malign- 
ing those in authority. I do not know what abuses 
may have existed in other hospitals of the Confederacy ; 
I can, however, say with entire truth that I never saw 
or heard of a more self-sacrificing set of men than the 
surgeons I met and served under during the war. With 
only two exceptions, they were devoted to their patients, 
and as attentive as in private practice or as the immense 
number of sick allowed them to be. These exceptions 



\ 



% 



RINGGOLD. 97 

were both men who were unwilling to get up at night, 
and if called were fearfully cross. At one time I had a 
fierce contest with a surgeon of this kind, and fought it 
out, coming off victorious. I was called up one night to 
see a patient who had required and received the closest 
attention, but who was, we hoped, improving. Finding 

him apparently dying, I sent at once for Doctor , 

meanwhile trying, with the help of the nurse, every 
means to bring back warmth to his body, administering 
stimulants, rubbing the extremities with mustard, and 
applying mustard-plasters. The poor fellow was con- 
scious, and evidently very much frightened j he had in- 
sisted upon sending for me and seemed to be satisfied 

that I would do everything in my power. Doctor 

came in, looking black as a thunder-cloud. " What the 
devil is all this fuss about ? what are you going to do 
with that mustard-plaster ? Better apply it to that pine 
table; it would do as much good;" then to the nurse, 
" Don't bother that fellow any more ; let him die in 
peace." My temper was up, and I rushed at once into 
battle. " Sir," said I, " if you have given the patient up, / 
have not and will not. Ko true physician would show such 
brutality." He was nearly bursting with rage. ''I shall 
report you, madam." " And I, sir, will take care that 
the whole post shall know of this." He went out and I 
remained with the soldier until he was better (he event- 
ually recovered). The next morning, bright and early, 
I made my report to Dr. McAllister, who had already 
received an account of the affair from the nurses and 
other patients of the ward. He reprimanded the sur- 
geon instead of gratifying his desire to humble me. 

But to return to my expedition : Fortunately, I was 

able to disprove the false tales which had prejudiced the 

country people. Their sympathy being thoroughly 

aroused, they resolved to make up for lost time; and 

E ^ 9 



98 MEMORIES. 

after this ladies rode in town every day, arranging 
among themselves for different days, and bringing for 
the convalescents the fresh vegetables which were so 
valuable as a palliative, and preventive of scui^y; for 
the sick, chickens, eggs, fi*esh butter, buttermilk, and 
sweet milk. Country wagons also brought in small 
supplies for sale, but never in proportion to the demand. 
Many of the ladies, after one visit to a ward or two, were 
utterly overcome by the ghastly sight, and wept even at 
the thought of looking upon the misery they could not 
relieve. Others seemed to feel only deepest pity and a 
desire to '' do something for the poor soldiers." As there 
were so many, it was difficult to distribute impartially : 
some must be left out. The ladies, finding so many 
craving buttermilk, sweet milk, home-made bread, etc., 
did not well know how to manage ; but the soldiers them- 
selves soon settled that. "I ain't so very bad off," one 
would say, " but that little fellow over yonder needs it 
bad; he's powerful weak, and he's been studying about 
buttermilk ever since he came in." 

All the time his own emaciated frame was trembling 
from exhaustion, and, spite of his courage, his eyes 
greedily devoured the dainties which he denied himself. 
This was but one of a thousand instances of self-abne- 
gation which go to make up a record as honorable, as 
brave, as true as that of the glorious deeds which such 
men never failed to perform whenever opportunity 
offered. 

During this foraging trip, and once afterwards during 
a spell of fever which lasted a week, I was cordially re- 
ceived and elegantly entertained at the house of Mr. 
and Mrs. Eussell, who lived about ten miles from Eing- 
gold. This aged couple were eminently and most in- 
telligently patriotic. 

Their sons were in the Confederate service. Their 



RINGGOLD. 99 

time and their substance were literally at the disposal 
of all who served the cause. The silver-haired mother 
knitted and spun incessantly for the soldiers. The 
father superintended the raising of vegetables, and sent 
wagon-loads to the hospitals. 

Miss Phemie, a lovely young girl, was a frequent visi- 
tor to the hospitals, and often herself dispensed the 
golden butter and rich buttermilk prepared under her 
own direction; she would even dispense with the carriage 
and ride in town on the wagon, that she might bring 
plenty of vegetables, fruit, etc. Convalescents were en- 
tertained royally at the old homestead ; those who could 
not go so far were often treated to pleasant and invig- 
orating rides. 

To me Miss Phemie's friendship and kindness brought 
many comforts, and I remember gratefully the whole 
family. 

Through the summer frequent skirmishes and fights 
were heard of, and sick and wounded men came in every 
day, and every few days squads of men who had " re- 
ported for duty" took their places at the front. At last, 
about the first of September, 1863, appeared the never- 
failing forerunner of a real battle near at hand, — a 
small brigade of " hospital rats," distorted, drawn up, 
with useless crippled fingers, bent legs, crooked arms, 
necks drawn awry, let us say by — rheumatism. A day 
or two later was fought the sanguinary and fiercely-con- 
tested battle of Chickamauga. I could not if I would 
describe this or any other battle, nor is it necessary, for 
historians have well accomplished this duty. The terri- 
ble results to the brave men engaged only appeared to 
me, and these guided me to an opinion that among the 
horrible, bloody, hard-fought battles of the war none 
could exceed that of Chickamauga, and afterwards 
Franklin. From the lips of my boys, however, I often 



100 MEMORIES. 

gained knowledge of deeds of magnificent bravery 
which cannot be surpassed by any which adorn the 
pages of history. These jewels have lain undiscovered 
among the debris of the war. Would I could reclaim 
them all. Seen in the aggregate, they would even out- 
shine the glory already known and visible. Finding 
memory a treacherous guide while searching for these 
hidden treasures, I have called upon my comrades to 
aid me in clearing away the dust and cobwebs, — the ac- 
cumulation of years, — but only in a few instances have 
they responded. I shall here relate one incident of the 
battle of Chickamauga never before published, but which 
is true in every particular. 

Austin's Battalion of Sharpshooters, composed of two 
companies, the Continental Gruards and Cannon Guards, 
both from New Orleans, was as well known to the 
Army of Tennessee as any organization in it, and com- 
manded the respect and admiration of all the army. 
The following lines from the pen of a gallant soldier in 
Fenner's Louisiana Battery truly portray the senti- 
ments of their army comrades towards the famous 
battalion : 

" In the Army of Tennessee, Austin's Battalion always 
occupied the post of honor in the brigade (Adams's and 
Gibson's Louisiana) to which it belonged. In the ad- 
vance, that battalion was in the front ; in the retreat, it 
hung upon the rear, a safeguard to the Confederates, 
and a cloud threatening at every step to burst in de- 
structive fury upon the advancing enemy. 

" Who is on the front ?" " Austin's Battalion." " Then, 
boys, we can lie down and sleep." Such were the words 
heard a hundred times among the troops of the Army of 
Tennessee, to which was attached Austin's Battalion of 
Sharpshooters. Whose tongue could so graphically pic- 
ture to the mind's eye a soldier and a hero as do these 



RINGGOLD. 101 

brief questions and answers interchanged between battle- 
scarred veterans in the gathering gloom of the night, 
when they knew not, until they were assured Austin's 
Battalion was in the front, if they could snatch a few 
hours of repose from the toil and danger of battle? 
Austin's Battalion, famous throughout the armies of the 
Confederacy for its discipline and fighting qualities, was 
formed out of the remnants of the Eleventh Louisiana 
Regiment, which distinguished itself at Belmont, and 
which was literally shot to pieces at Shiloh. The bat- 
talion is well known to all the survivors of the Army of 
Tennessee as a fighting organization. During the active 
campaign of the army, it was almost continually under 
fire, and Ned Austin, on his little black pony, was always 
in the advance, "fooling the enemy, or in the retreat 
fighting and holding him in check." 

As the title of the battalion indicates, it was always 
in the front, on the advanced skirmish-line, pending a 
battle. It will be remembered by all the heroes of the 
Army of Tennessee that nearly every regiment in that 
army at the time of the battle of Chickamauga had on 
its battle-flag " cross-cannon," which signified the regi- 
ment's participation in the capture of a battery, or part 
thereof, at some time and place. Austin's Battalion had 
not won that honor when it commenced its destruc- 
tive fire upon the enemy early Saturday morning, Sep- 
tember 19, 1863. Sunday, the 20th, the battalion, on 
the extreme right of the army, moved forward upon the 
skirmish-lines of the Federals about eight o'clock in the 
morning, driving them rapidly back towards their main 
lines, leaving many dead and wounded on the ground, 
and many prisoners in the hands of the enthusiastic ad- 
vancing Confederates. It was published in general or- 
ders after the battle that Austin's Sharpshooters captured 
three times as many prisoners as they had men in their 

9* 



102 MEMORIES. 

whole battalion. The Continentals, on the right of the 
battalion, commanded by Captain W. Q. Loud, suddenly 
found themselves in range of and close quarters to artil- 
lery, as shells were singing through the woods directly 
over their heads. Still advancing as skirmishers, they 
saw on the road two pieces of artillery, supported by 
perhaps a small company of infantry, about one hundred 
yards from their advanced position in the woods. The 
command, " Eall}"," was given by Lieutenant William 
Pierce' commanding first platoon, and as the word 
was passed along by the sergeants all within hearing 
jumped to the command, and as "Forward, charge!" 
was given, in a minute the gallant Confederates had 
forced back the Federals and had possession of the 
guns, Lieutenant Pierce striking one of them with his 
sword, proclaiming the right of the battalion to have 
cross-cannon at last on its beloved flag. Although the 
battalion, as was just and correct, participated in and 
enjoyed the proud honors of the capture, it will cause 
no feeling of envy among the members of Company B 
living to-day to give the exclusive credit of the capture 
of those guns to the first platoon of the Continental 
Guards. The Federals, seeing how few were the num- 
bers of the foe who had driven them from their guns, 
rallied, advanced, and fired a volley into the victorious 
Confederates, who were still surrounding the pieces. 
Three men were wounded by the volley, among them 
Lieutenant William Pierce, whose leg was so badly 
shattered that amputation was necessary. The boys 
in gray retired to the first line of trees, leaving their 
lieutenant under the guns, surrounded by the boys in 
blue. It was for a short moment only: a volley which 
killed three and wounded more of the Federals, a yell 
and a charge, and the lieutenant's comrades again had 
possession of the guns, and soon were carrying him and 



RINGGOLD. 103 

dragging the guns to the rear, making the captured 
Federals assist in both duties. The advancing brigade 
was more than a quarter of a mile from where the guns 
were captured. It is very doubtful whether the history 
of the war will record a similar capture of artillery sup- 
ported by infantry, disclosed suddenly by an advance- 
line of skirmishers who unhesitatingly charged, took 
possession of, and carried to the rear the guns. One 
would have supposed that Lieutenant Pierce, having 
suffered amputation of a leg, might have rested upon 
laurels won so gloriously. Ah, no ! his gallant soul was 
yet undismayed. At the earliest possible moment he 
returned to his command, there receiving a rich recom- 
pense for past suffering. Imagine his great pride and 
satisfaction when, following his comrades to the quar- 
ters of the gallant Major Ned Austin, he was shown the 
battalion flag with its " honored and honorable" cross- 
cannon liberally displayed. 

The survivors of the Continental Guards, returning 
to New Orleans after the war, have clung together like 
true brothers, retaining their military organization and 
the name they bore so gallantly. Of the veterans, not 
many remain ; these are known and revered b}^ all. 
Captain Pierce is fondly beloved and highly respected 
by his former command, as well as by the younger 
members of the company, who, having "fallen in" to 
fill up the ranks which time and death have decimated, 
are striving nobly to uphold the name and fame of the 
Continentals. Under the command of a gallant gentle- 
man and excellent executive oflicer, the new Continentals 
have guarded and kept ever fresh the laurels won by 
their predecessors, adding an exceptional record of their 
own, both military and civic. Upon all patriotic occa- 
sions the veterans appear and march with the company. 
Our veteran companies are the pride and glory of JSTew 



10^ MEMORIES. 

Orleans. Citizens never tire of viewing the beautiful 
uniform and the martial step of the Continental Guards. 
And who can look upon Captain Pierce, bearing his 
trusty sword, keeping step equally well, whether he 
wears a finely-formed cork leg or stumps along on his 
favorite wooden one, — his bearing as proud as the 
proudest, his heroic soul looking gloriously forth from 
its undimmed windows, — and fail to remember proudly 
the young lieutenant who fell under the enemy's gun at 
Chickamauga, or who can listen unmoved to the music 
of the cannon which so often woke the morning echoes 
upon the bloodiest battle-field of the war? A parade 
of the Washington Artillery is, indeed, a glorious and 
inspiriting sight. Here they come, gayly caparisoned, 
perfect in every detail of military equipment, led by 
elegant officers who may well ride proudly, for each is 
a true soldier and a hero. Scarcely less distinguished, 
save for the plainer uniform, are the rank and file 
that follow. Can these be the same men whom his- 
tory delights to honor, — the heroes of a hundred battle- 
fields, — both in the army of Virginia and Tennessee, 
who, stripped to the waist, blackened with powder 
and smoke, bloody with streaming wounds, still stood 
to their guns, and, in answer to the enemy, thun- 
dered forth their defiant motto, " Come and take us !" 
And now — who more peaceful, who more public-spir- 
ited, who more kind in word and deed? Of the Yir- 
ginia detachment I knew little except their splendid 
record. From the fifth company I frequently received 
patients during my service with the Army of Tennessee, 
for, like their comrades of Virginia, they seemed to be 
in every battle, and in the thick of it. In fact, New 
Orleans and the whole State of Louisiana, like every 
cit}^ and State in the South, are peopled with veterans 
and heroes. In comparatively few cases have military 



RINGGOLD. 105 

organizations been kept up. Other duties engross the 
late Confederates, of whom it may be truly said their 
record of citizenship is as excellent as their war record. 
If to any reader it occurs that I seem to be doing par- 
ticular justice to New Orleans trooj^s, I will say. let the 
feeling which arises in your own breast regarding your 
"very ow^n" plead /or me. Eemember that my husband 
was one of the famous Dreux Battalion, and afterwards 
of Gibson's Brigade, also that Louisianians were exiles, 
and that love of our home, with sorrow and indignation 
on account of her humiliation and chains, drew us very 
close together. But aside from this natural feeling 
there was no shadow of difference in my ministration 
or in the affection I bore towards all " my boys." 

There was not a single Southern State unrepresented 
among the bleeding victims of Chickamauga. From 
that hardly-contested field, as from many others, a rich 
harvest of glory has been reaped and garnered until 
the treasure-houses of history are full to overflowing. 
Glowing accounts of the splendid deeds of this or that 
division, brigade, regiment, company, have immortalized 
the names of— their officers. And what of the unfalter- 
ing /oZ^owjers, whose valor supported their brave leaders 
and helped to create many a splendid record ? Here lay 
the shattered remnants, each ghastly wound telling its 
own story of personal bravery. The fiery sons of 
South Carolina, unsubdued by the perils they had 
passed, unmindful of their gaping wounds, as ready 
then to do and dare as when they threw down the 
gauntlet of defiance and stood ready to defend the 
sovereignty of their State. The men who followed 
where the gallant Forrest led, "looking the warrior 
in love with his work." The devoted patriots who 
charged with Breckenridge. The tall, soldierly Ten- 
nesseeans, of whom their commander said, when asked 



106 MEMORIES. 

if he could take and hold a position of transcendent 
danger, " Give me ray Tennesseeans, and PU take and 
hold anything;" the determined, ever-ready Texans, 
who, under the immortal Terry, so distinguished them- 
selves, and under other leaders in every battle of the 
war won undying laurels ; North Carolinians, of whose 
courage in battle I needed no better proof than the 
pluck they invariably showed under the torture of 
fevered wounds or of the surgeon's knife ; exiled Ken- 
tuckians, Arkansians, G-eorgians, Louisianians, Mis- 
sourians, Marylanders, sternly resentful, and impatient 
of the wounds that kept them from the battle-field, be- 
cause ever hoping to strike some blow that should sever 
a link in the chains which bound the homes they so 
loved; Alabamians, the number of whose regiments, as 
well as their frequent consolidation, spoke volumes for their 
splendid service ; Georgians, who, having fought with 
desperate valor, now lay suffering and dying within the 
confines of their own State, yet unable to reach the 
loved ones who, unknowing what their fate might be, 
awaited with trembling hearts accounts of the battle, 
so slow in reaching them ; Mississippians, of whom I 
have often heard it said, "their fighting and stay- 
ing qualities were magnificent'' I then knew hundreds 
of instances of individual valor, of which my remem- 
brance is now so dim that I dare not give names or dates. 
I am proud, however, to record the names of four 
soldiers belonging to the Seventeenth Mississippi Eegi- 
ment : J. Wm. Flynn,* then a mere lad, but whose record 
will compare with the brightest ; Samuel Frank, quarter- 
master; Maurice Bernhiem, quartermaster-sergeant, and 
Auerbach, the drummer of the regiment. I was proudly 
told by a member of Company G, Seventeenth Missis- 

* Mr. Flynn is now pastor in charge of a Presbyterian Church in New 
Orleans, and is as faithful a soldier of the cross as once of the lost cause. 



RINGGOLD. 107 

Bippi, that Sam Frank, although excelling in every duty 
of his position, was exceeding brave, often earnestly 
asking permission to lead the skirmishers, and would 
shoulder a musket sooner than stay out of the fight. 
Maurice Beruhiem, quartermaster-sergeant, was also 
brave as the bravest. Whenever it was possible he also 
would join the ranks and fight as desperately as any 
soldier. Both men were exempt from field-service. 
Auerbach, the drummer of the Seventeenth, was also a 
model soldier, always at his post. On the longest 
marches, in the fiercest battles, whatever signal the 
commanding officer wished to have transmitted by means 
of the drum, night or day, amid the smoke of battle or 
the dust of the march, Auerbach was always on hand. 
The members of the Seventeenth declared that they 
could never forget the figure of the small Jewish drum- 
mer, his little cap shining out here and there amid the 
thick smoke and under a rattling fire. Before taking 
leave of this splendid regiment, I will give an incident 
of the battle of Knoxville, also related to me by one of 
its members. 

By some mismanagement, Longstreet's corps had no 
scaling-ladders, and had to cut their way up the wall of 
the entrenchment by bayonets, digging out step after 
step under a shower of hot water, stones, shot, axes, etc. 
Some of the men actually got to the top, and, reaching 
over, dragged the enemy over the walls. General Hum- 
phrey's brigade had practically taken the fort. Their 
flag was flying from the walls, about a hundred men 
having reached the top, where the color-bearer had 
planted his flag, when the staff was shot off about an 
inch above his hand. The men were so mad at losing 
the flag, that they seized the shells with fuses burning 
and hurled them back upon the enemy. Some of the 
members of this gallant regiment were among the hun- 



108 MEMORIES. 

dreds equally brave who, after the battle of Chicka- 
raauga, became my patients. Scattered all through the 
wards were dozens of Irishmen, whose awful wounds 
scarcely sufficed to keep them in bed, so impatient were 
they of restraint, and especially of inactivity, — so eager 
to be at the front. Ever since the war I have kept in 
my heart a place sacred to these generous exiles, who, 
in the very earliest days of the Confederacy, flocked by 
thousands to her standard, wearing the gray as if it had 
been the green, giving in defence of the land of their 
adoption the might of stalwart arms, unfaltering courage, 
and the earnest devotion of hearts glad thus to give 
expression to the love of liberty and hatred of oppression 
which filled them. As Confederate soldiers they made 
records unsurpassed by any, but they never forgot that 
they were Irishmen, and bound to keep up the name 
and fame of Old Ireland. So, company after company, 
composing many regiments, appeared on fields of glory 
bearing names dear to every Irish heart, — names which 
they meant to immortalize, and did. 

That I should be permitted to serve all these heroes, 
to live among them, to minister to them, seemed to me 
a blessing beyond estimation. Strange to say, although 
my toil increased and the horror deepened, my health 
did not suffer. After daj^s and nights of immeasurable 
fatigue, a few hours of sleep would quite restore me, 
and I dared to believe that the supporting rod and staff 
was given of God. 

It now became very difficult to obtain food either 
suitable or sufficient. The beef was horrible. Upon 
two occasions rations of mule meat were issued, and 
eaten with the only sauce which could have rendered 
it possible to swallow the rank, coarse-grained meat, — 
i.e., the ravenous hunger of wounded and convalescent 
men. Meal was musty, flour impossible to be procured. 



RINGGOLD. 109 

All the more delicate food began to fail utterly. A few 
weeks after the battle, Dr. S. M. Bemiss was ordered to 
Newnan, Georgia, to arrange for the removal of the hos- 
pital "post." We were, therefore, expecting a change 
of location, but quite unprepared for the suddenness of 
the order, or the haste and confusion that ensued. The 
upsetness was so complete that it almost seemed to me 
an actual fulfilment of a mysterious prophecy or warn- 
ing often uttered by old negroes to terrorize children 
into good behavior : " Better mind out dar : fust thing 
you knows you ain't gwine ter know nuflfin'." Every- 
thing seemed to be going on at once. The ambulance- 
train, with a few baggage-cars attached, was even then 
at the depot. A hoarse, stifled whistle apprised us of the 
fact, and seemed to hurry our preparation. Dr. McAl- 
lister was everywhere, superintending the removal with 
the energy natural to him. In the court-house all was 
confusion. Boxes were hastily filled with bedding, cloth- 
ing, etc., thrown in helter-skelter, hastily nailed up, and 
as hastily carted down to the train. Sick and awfully 
wounded men were hurriedly placed upon stretchers, 
and their bearers formed an endless procession to the 
rough cars (some of them lately used to transport cat- 
tle, and dreadfully filthy). Here they were placed upon 
straw mattresses, or plain straw, as it happened. No 
provisions were to be had except sides of rusty bacon 
and cold corn-bread. These were shovelled into carts 
and transferred to the floor of the cars in the same 
manner. There was no time to cook anything, and the 
chances were whether we would get off at all or not. 
Procuring a large caldron, I dumped into it remnants 
of the day's dinner, — a little soup, a few vegetables, and 
some mule meat. The stoves had all been taken down, 
but there was a little cold cornmeal coffee, some tea, and 
a small quantity of milk. This 1 put into buckets; then, 

10 



110 MEMORIES. 

importuning the surgeon in charge until he was glad to 
get rid of me by assigning me a cart, I mounted into it 
with ray provisions and jolted off to the cars, where 
hundreds of tortured, groaning men were lying. There 
I met Dr. Gore (for both hospitals were to be moved on 
the same train), who helped me to hide my treasures 
and to administer some weak milk punch to the suffer- 
ers. Meanwhile, the pine-wood fires kindled in the 
streets all around the hospitals made the town look as 
though it was on fire, and threw its weird light upon 
masses of soldiery, — cavalry, infantry, artillery, — moving 
in endless numbers through the town, shaking the very 
earth with the tramp of men and horses and the heavy 
rumble of wheels. The men were silent, and looked 
jaded and ghastly in the lurid light. Some had bloody 
rags tied about head and hands, their breasts were bare, 
the panting breath could bo heard plainly, their eyes 
shone fiercely through the grime of powder and smoke. 
They had been fighting, and were now retreating; still 
they marched in solid column, nor broke ranks, nor lost 
step. The faces of the officers were grave and troubled ; 
none seemed to observe our frantic haste, but all to look 
forward with unseeing eyes. I did so long to have 
them rest and refresh themselves. During the whole 
of that eventful night my cheeks were wet, my heart 
aching sadly. Before daylight we were off. Eailroads 
at that time were very defective and very rough. Ah, 
how terrible was the suffering of those wounded men as 
they were jolted and shaken from side to side ! for haste 
was necessary to escape the enemy. About noon the 
train came to a full stop, nor moved again for many, 
many hours, — hours fraught with intense suffering to 
the sick and wounded, as well as to all who shared the 
hardships of that journey. It was reported that the 
enemy were passing either to the right or left, I do not 



RINGGOLD. Ill 

remember which. Not a wheel must move, not a col- 
umn of smoke arise ; so, with the engine fires extin- 
guished, the train stood motionless in the midst of a 
barren pine forest. The small supply of cooked food 
was soon exhausted, the ladies on the train assisting 
to feed the wounded soldiers. All were parched with 
thirst. The only water to be procured lay in ruts and 
ditches by the roadside, and was filthy and fetid. So 
the day passed. All through the night every one was 
on the alert, listening intently for sounds that might 
mean danger. No lights, no roadside fires could be 
allowed ; but the moon shone brightly, and b}^ its light 
the surgeons moved about among the suffering men, 
whose groans, united with the plaintive sigh of the chill 
wind through the pine forest, served to make night dis- 
mal indeed. In the intervals of attending upon the sick 
we slept as we could, leaning up against boxes, tilted 
back in chairs against the side of the car, or lying down, 
with anything we could get for pillows. Some of the 
surgeons and attendants bivouacked under the trees in 
spite of the cold. In the morning we were hungry 
enough to eat the stale corn-bread, and tried to like it, 
but even of that there was very little, for the wounded 
men were ravenous. Drs. Gore and Yates set them- 
selves to whittle some "army-forks," or forked sticks, 
and, cutting the bacon in thin slices, made little fires 
which they carefully covered with large pans to keep 
the smoke from arising. By these they toasted slices of 
bacon. Ah, how delicious was the odor, how excellent 
the taste ! Several hands were set at this work, but it 
was necessarily very slow. I remained among my own 
patients, while my servant climbed in and out of the 
car, bringing as much meat as she could get, which I 
distributed while she returned for more. The wounded 
men were clamorous for it, crying out, " Give it to us 



112 MEMORIES. 

raw ; we can't wait." This we were soon compelled to 
do, as it was feared the smoke might escape and betray 
us. I cannot now recollect by what means we received 
the welcome order to move on, but it came at last, and 
on the morning of the third day we reached Newnan, 
Georgia, where, after a few days' bustle and confusion, 
we were pleasantly settled and had fallen into the old 
routine, Dr. Bemiss having arranged not only for excel- 
lent quarters but for fresh supplies of rations and hospital 
stores. 



CHAPTEE 7. 

NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 

Just here Memory lays a restraining hand upon my 
own. Turning to meet her gaze, it pleads with me to 
linger a while in this sweet and pleasant spot, peopled 
with familiar forms, and kindly faces, well-beloved in the 
past, fondly greeted once again. Ah, how closely our 
little band clung together, how enduring were the ties 
that bound us ! Ignoring the shadow, seeking always to 
stand in the sunshine, we welcomed with yet unshaken 
faith the heavenly guest who stood in our midst, turning 
upon us almost for the last time an unclouded face, and 
eyes undimmed by doubt or pain, — the angel of Hope. 

The ladies of Newnan were truly loyal, and in spite of 
the fact that the whole town was converted into hospi- 
tals, and every eligible place filled with sick, murmured 
not, but strove in every way to add to their comfort. I 
wish I could place every one before my readers to receive 
the meed of praise she so richly deserves ; only a few, 
very few ^ names now occur to me. The hospitable man- 
sion of Judge Eay was a complete rendezvous for con- 
valescent soldiers ; also the homes of Mrs. McKinstry 
and Mrs. Morgan. The latter was one of the most 
beautiful women I ever saw. Dr. Gore used to say, " She 
is just plum pretty'^ She was a perfect blonde, with a 
small head "running over" with short, golden curls. 
The Misses Eay were brunettes, very handsome and 
stately. Their brothers were in the army. Judge Eay 
never allowed his daughters to visit the hospitals, 
but atoned for that by unbounded hospitality. Mrs. 
h 10* 113 



114 MEMORIES. 

McKinstry was a constant visitor to the hospitals, and 
had her house full of sick soldiers. Only one church in 
the town was left vacant in which to hold services. 
Eev. E. A. Holland, then a young, enthusiastic Methodist 
minister, and a chaplain in the army, remained for some 
time in Newnan, holding meetings w^hich were largely 
attended. Dr. Holland was long after the war converted 
to the Episcopal faith, and called to Trinity Church, 
New Orleans. The bishops and ministers of the Protest- 
ant Episcopal Church also held frequent services, and 
often Catholic priests came among the sick, who greatly 
valued their holy ministration. Through the kindness 
of a friend, an ownerless piano found in one of the stores 
was moved to my room, and, although not a good one, 
contributed largely to the pleasure of the soldiers, also 
serving for sacred music when needed. Mr. Blandner's 
lute, my piano, and Mrs. G-amble's soprano voice, joined 
to that of a Confederate tenor or bass, or my own con- 
tralto, made delicious music. Concerts, tableaux, plays, 
etc., were also given for the benefit of refugees or to 
raise money to send boxes to the front : at all these I 
assisted, but had no time for rehearsals, etc. I could 
only run over and sing my song or songs and then run 
back to my patients. Some money was realized, but the 
entertainments were never a great financial success, 
because all soldiers were invited guests. Still, some good 
was always accomplished. These amusements were 
greatly encouraged by physicians and others, as safety- 
valves to relieve the high-pressure of excitement, un- 
certainty, and dread which were characteristic of the 
time. I was always counted in, but seldom, very seldom, 
accepted an invitation, for it seemed to me like unfaith- 
fulness to the memory of the gallant dead, and a mockery 
of the suffering in our midst. I could not rid myself of 
this feeling, and can truly say that during those fateful 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 115 

years, from the time when in Eichmond the " starvation 
parties" were organized, until the end, I never found a 
suitable time to dance or a time to laugh or a time to 
make merry. 

My own special kitchen (an immense wareroom at 
the back of the store, which was used for a distributing- 
room) was in Newnan well fitted up. A cavernous 
fireplace, well supplied with big pots, little pots, bake- 
ovens, and stew-pans, was supplemented by a cooking- 
stove of good size. A large brick oven was built in the 
yard close by, and two professional bakers, with their 
assistants, were kept busy baking for the whole post. 
There happened to be a back entrance to this kitchen, 
and although the convalescents were not allowed inside, 
many were the interviews held at said door upon subjects 
of vital importance to the poor fellows who had walked 
far into the country to obtain coveted dainties which 
they wanted to have cooked " like my folks at home fix 
it up." They were never refused, and sometimes a dozen 
different "messes" were set off to await claimants, — 
potato-pones, cracklin bread, apple-pies, blackberry -pies, 
squirrels, birds, and often chickens. For a long time the 
amount of chickens brought in by " the boys" puzzled 
me. They had little or no money, and chickens were 
always high-priced. I had often noticed that the men in 
the wards were busy -pre-psiYmg fish-hooks, and yet, though 
they often " went fishing," they brought no fish to be 
cooked. One day the mysterj^ was fully solved. An 
irate old lady called upon Dr. McAllister, holding at the 
end of a string a fine, large chicken, and vociferously 
proclaiming her wrongs. "I knowed I'd ketch 'em: I 
knowed it. Jes' look a-here," and she drew up the 
chicken, opened its mouth, and showed the butt of a 
fish-hook it had swallowed. Upon further examination, 
it was found that the hook had been baited with a kernel 



116 MEMORIES. 

of corn. "I've been noticin' a powerful disturbance 
among my fowls, an' every onct in while one of 'em 
would go over the fence like litenin' and I couldn't see 
what went with it. This mornin' I jes' sot down under 
the fence an' watched, and the fust thing I seed was a 
line flyin' over the fence right peert, an' as soon as it 
struck the ground the chickens all went for it, an' this 
yer fool chicken up and swallered it. Now, I'm a lone 
woman, an' my chickens an' my truck-patch is my livin', 
and I ain't gwine to stan' no sichr The convalescents, 
attracted by the shrill, angry voice, gathered around. 
Their innocent surprise, and the wonder with which 
they examined the baited fish-hook and sympathized with 
the old ladi/, almost upset the gravity of the " sturgeons," 
as the old body called the doctors. 

There was one dry-goods store still kept open in New- 
nan, but few ladies had the inclination or the means to 
go shopping. The cotton lying idle all over the South 
was then to a certain extent utilized. Everything the 
men wore was dyed and woven at home: pants were 
either butternut, blue, or light purple, occasionally light 
yellow ; shirts, coarse, but snowy white, or what would 
now be called cream. Everybody knitted socks. Ladies, 
negro women, girls, and even little boys, learned to knit. 
Each tried to get ahead as to number and quality. 
Ladies' stockings were also knitted of all grades from 
stout and thick to gossamer or open-work, etc. Home- 
spun dresses were proudly worn, and it became a matter 
of constant experiment and great pride to improve the 
quality and vary colors. Warp and woof were finely 
spun, and beautiful combinations of colors ventured 
upon, although older heads eschewed them, and in con- 
sequence complacently wore their clean, smoothl^Mroned 
gray, "pepper-and-salt," or brown homespuns long after 
the gayer ones had been faded by sun or water and had 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 117 

to be "dipped." Hats and bonnets of all sorts and 
sizes were made of straw or palmetto, and trimmed 
with the same. Most of them bore cockades of bright 
red and white (the " red, white, and red"), fashioned of 
strips knitted to resemble ribbons. Some used emblems 
denoting the State or city of the wearer, others a small 
Confederate battle-flag. Young faces framed in these 
pretty hats, or looking out from under a broad-brim, 
appeared doubly bewitching. Ladies worked early and 
late, first upon the fabric, and then upon beautifully- 
stitched homespun shirts, intended as gifts to favorite 
heroes returning to the front. During the winter nights 
the light of pine-knot fires had sufficed, but now Confed- 
erate candles were used. It did seem as if the bees were 
Southern sympathizers, and more faithfully than usual 
"improved each shining hour." The wax thus obtained 
was melted in large kettles, and yards of rags torn into 
strijDS and sewn together, then twisted to the size of 
lamp-wicks, were dipped into the liquid wax, cooled, 
and dipped again and again until of the right size. 
These yards of waxed rags were wound around a corn- 
cob or a bottle, then clipped, leaving about two yards 
" closely wound" to each candle. One end was left loose 
to light, and — here you have the recipe for Confederate 
candles. 

When I came through the lines I was refused permis- 
sion to bring any baggage; therefore my supply of 
clothing was exceedingly small. I had, however, some 
gold concealed about my person, and fortunately pro- 
cured with it a plain wardrobe. This I had carefully 
treasured, but now it was rapidly diminishing. At least 
I must have one new dress. It was bought, — a simple 
calico, and not of extra quality. The cost was three 
hundred dollars! With the exception of a plain muslin 
bought the following summer for three hundred and 



118 MEMORIES. 

fifty dollars, it was my only indulgence in the extrava- 
gance of dress during the whole war. Two pretty gray 
homespuns made in Alabama were my standbys. 

A good-sized store had been assigned to me as a linen 
room and office. The linen room, standing upon the 
street, was very large, and shelved all around, a counter 
on one side, and otherwise furnished with splint chairs 
and boxes to sit upon. My sanctum lay behind it, and 
here my sick and convalescent boys came frequently, 
and dearly loved to come, to rest upon the lounge or 
upon my rocking-chair, to read, to eat nice little lunches, 
and often to write letters. -The front room was the 
rendezvous of the surgeons. In the morning they came 
to consult me about diet-lists or to talk to each other. 
In the evening the promenade of the ladies generally 
ended here, the surgeons always came, and I am proud 
to say that a circle composed of more cultivated, refined 
gentlemen and ladies could not be found than those who 
met in the rough linen-room of the Buckner Hospital. 
Dr. McAllister often looked in, but only for a few mo- 
ments. He was devoted to his business as surgeon in 
charge of a large hospital. The multifarious duties of 
the position occupied him exclusively. He was a superb 
executive officer : nothing escaped his keen observation. 
N"o wrong remained unredressed, no recreant found an 
instant's toleration. He was ever restless, and not at all 
triven to the amenities of life or to social intercourse, 
but fond of spending his leisure moments at his own 
temporary home, which a devoted wife made to him a 
paradise. His manners to strangers were very stiff; his 
friendship, once gained, was earnest and unchangeable. 
Dr. Gamble, surgeon of the post, was an urbane, kindly 
gentleman. Business claimed his entire time also, and 
he was seldom seen outside of his office. The ladies of 
our little circle have been already mentioned, as well as 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 119 

most of the surgeons. Dr. Beraiss, of all others, was a 
general favorite. We did not see much of him, as he 
was a very busy man ; but at least once a day he 
would find his way to the rendezvous, often looking in 
at the window as he " halted" outside for a little chat. 
Invariably the whole party brightened up at his coming. 
He was so genial, so witty, so sympathetic, so entirely 
en rapport with everybody. A casual occurrence, a little 
discussion involving, perhaps, a cunning attempt to enlist 
him on one side or the other, would prove the key to 
unlock a fund of anecdotes, repartee, bon-mots, and, best 
of all, word-pictures, for here Dr. Bemiss excelled every 
one I ever knew. My own relations with him were 
very pleasant, for he was my adviser and helper in using 
properly the Louisiana and Alabama funds. The friend- 
ship between Drs. Bemiss and Gore seemed almost like 
that of Damon and Pythias. I think that Dr. Bemiss 
was first surgeon in charge of the " Bragg," but when a 
larger field was assigned to him Dr. Gore succeeded, 
Dr. Bemiss still retaining in some way the position of 
superior officer. Both these men were eminent surgeons 
and physicians, possessing in a remarkable degree the 
subtle comprehension and sympathy which is so valuable 
a quality in a physician. The tie that bound these two 
embraced a third, apparently as incongruous as possible, 
—Dr. Benjamin Wible, also of Louisville, a former part- 
ner of Dr. Bemiss. Diogenes we used to call him, and 
he did his best to deserve the name. 

His countenance was forbidding, except when lighted 
up by a smile, which was only upon rare occasions. 
He was intolerant of what he called " stuff and nonsense," 
and had a way of disconcerting people by grunting when- 
ever anything like sentimentality or gush was uttered 
in his presence. 

When he first came, his stern, dictatorial manner, 



120 MEMORIES. 

together with the persistent coldness which resisted all 
attempts to be friendly and sociable, hurt and offended 
me ; but he was so different when among the sick, so 
gentle, so benignant beside the bedsides of suffering men, 
that I soon learned to know and appreciate the royal 
heart which at other times he managed to conceal under 
a rough and forbidding exterior. 

Dr. Archer, of Maryland, was as complete a contrast 
as could be imagined. A poet of no mean order, in- 
dulging in all the idiosyncrasies of a poet, he was yet 
a man of great nerve and an excellent surgeon. Always 
dressed with careful negligence, his hands beautifully 
white, his beard unshorn, his auburn hair floating over 
his uniformed shoulders in long ringlets, soft in speech, 
so very deferential to ladies as to seem almost lover- 
like, he was, nevertheless, very manly. Quite a cavalier 
one could look up to and respect. At first I thought 
him effeminate, and did not like him, but his tender ways 
with my sick boys, the efficacy of his prescriptions, and 
his careful orders as to diet quite won me over. Our 
friendship lasted until the end of my service in the 
Buckner Hospital, since which I have never seen him. 
Another complete contrast to Diogenes was Dr. Con- 
way, of Virginia, our Chesterfield. His perfect manners 
and courtly observance of the smallest requirements of 
good breeding and etiquette made us feel quite as if we 
were lord and ladies. Dr. Conway had a way of con- 
veying subtle indefinable flattery which was very elevat- 
ing to one's self-esteem. Others enjoyed it in full, but 
often, just as our Chesterfield had interviewed me, infus- 
ing even into the homely subject of diet-lists much that 
was calculated to puff up my vanity, in would stalk 
Diogenes, who never failed to bring me to a realizing 
sense of the hoUowness of it all. Dr. Hughes was a 
venerable and excellent gentleman, who constituted him- 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 121 

self ray mentor. He never failed to drop in every day, 
being always ready to smooth tangled threads for me. 
He was forever protesting against the habit I had con- 
tracted in Eichmond, and never afterwards relinquished, 
of remaining late by the bedside of dying patients, or 
going to the wards whenever summoned at night. He 
would say, " Daughter, it is not right, it is not safe ; not 
only do you risk contagion by breathing the foul air of 
the wards at night, but some of these soldiers are mighty 
rough and might not always justify jour confidence in 
them." But I would not listen. My firm belief in the 
honor of "my boys" and in their true and chivalrous 
devotion towards myself caused me to trust them 
utterly at all times and places. I can truly say that 
never during the whole four years of the war was that 
trust disturbed by even the roughest man of them all, 
although I was often placed in very trying circum- 
stances, many times being entirely dependent upon their 
protection and care, ivhich never failed me. So I used to 
set at naught the Avell-meant counsels of my kindly 
old friend, to laugh at his lugubrious countenance and 
the portentous shaking of his silvery head. We re- 
mained firm friends, however, and, though my dear old 
mentor has long since passed away, I still revere his 
memory. Dr. Yates was an ideal Texan, brave, deter- 
mined, plain, and straightforward, either a warm, true 
friend or an uncompromising enemy. He wished to be 
at the front, and was never satisfied with hospital duties. 
Mrs. Yates was a favorite with all. Dr. Jackson, of 
Alabama, in charge of the officers' quarters, performed 
some miracles in the way of surgical operation. He 
was a great favorite with his patients, who complained 
bitterly because they were so often deprived of his ser- 
vices for a time, when his skilful surgery was needed at 
the front. Besides these were Drs. Devine, Euell, Estell, 
F 11 



122 MEMORIES. 

Baruch, Frost, Oarmiehael, Welford, and Griffith, none of 
whom I knew particularly well. 

******* 

Meantime, the wounded of several battles had filled 
and crowded the wards. As before, every train came 
in freighted with human misery. In the Buckner 
Hospital alone there were nearly a thousand beds, ten- 
anted by every conceivable form of suffering. 

An ambulance-train arrived one night, bringing an 
unusually large number of sick and wounded men, 
whose piteous moans filled the air as they wei*e 
brought up the hill on " stretchers" or alighted at the 
door of the hospital from ambulances, which, jolting 
over the rough, country road, had tortured them 
inexpressibly. 

Occasionally a scream of agony would arise, but 
more frequently suppressed groans bespoke strong 
men's suffering manfully borne. In the ward Avhere 
those badly wounded were placed, there was so much 
to be done, that morning found the work unfinished. 

It was, therefore, later than usual when I found time 
to pay my usual morning visits to other wards. 

Upon entering Ward No. 4, m}^ attention was at- 
tracted by a new patient, who lay propped up on one 
of the bunks near a window. He was a mere lad (per- 
haps twenty). His eyes, as they met mine, expressed 
so plainly a sense of captivity and extreme dislike of it 
that I felt very sorry for him. He had been dressed in 
a clean hospital shirt, but one shoulder and arm was 
bare and bandaged, for he was wounded in the left 
shoulder, — a slight wound, but sufficient to occasion 
severe pain and fever. 

At first I did not approach him, but his eyes followed 
me as I paused by each bed to ascertain the needs of 
the sick and to bestow particular care in many cases. 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 123 

At last I stood by his side, and, placing my hand 
upon his head, spoke to him. He moved uneasily, 
seemingly trying to repress the quivering of his lip and 
the tears that, nevertheless, would come. Not wishing 
to notice his emotion just then, I called the nurse, and, 
by way of diversion, gave a few trifling directions, then 
passed on to another ward. 

Eeturning later, bringing some cooling drink and a 
bottle of Confederate bay-water (vinegar), I gave him 
to drink and proceeded to sponge off his head and 
hands. He submitted, as it seemed at first, unwillingly, 
but just as I turned to leave him he suddenly seized my 
hand, kissed it, and laid his burning cheek upon it. 
From that moment I was eagerly welcomed by him 
whenever I appeared among the vsick. 

When he began to mend and was allowed to talk 
freely, I learned his name, Charley Percy, that he 
was a native of Bayou Sara, Louisiana, and a member 
of the fifth company of Washington Artillery, Captain 
Slocomb commanding. He had been wounded at Eesaca. 
I grew to love him dcarl}". As soon as he was per- 
mitted to leave his bed he became averse to remaining 
in the ward, and most of his waking hours were spent 
in the little room which was specially allotted to me. 
Whenever I returned after my rounds among the sick 
it was a certainty that the glad, bright presence awaited 
me, and that many little plans for my rest and comfort 
would make the rough place homelike. 

He became to me like a dear young brother, devoted 
and ever-thoughtful. The matron's room at the hos- 
pital was called very often " Soldiers' Rest," and some- 
times " The Promised Land," because many soldiers 
came there every day, and those newly convalescent 
made it a goal which they aspired to reach as soon as 
permitted. 



124 MEMORIES. 

This habit gave me an opportunity to use properly what 
might have been sent in boxes which arrived frequently 
from different quarters, filled with a variety of goodies, 
but in quantities entirely insufficient to supply all the 
soldiers. A sangaree or any other delicacy, taken while 
resting after a walk which taxed the weakened energies 
to the utmost, or a meal served outside the fevered air 
of the wards, did more to build up the strength than 
any amount of medicine could have done. As there 
never was, by any chance, a supply of these things for 
one thousand men (the usual number assigned to Buck- 
ner Hospital), delicacies (already becoming scarce) were 
served only to the very sick or to convalescents. 

It was beautiful to see how young Percy delighted to 
assist in waiting on these visitors to " The Soldiers' Eest," 
— how his sprigbtliness pleased and amused them. His 
own great embarrassment seemed to be that he had 
lost all his clothes at the time he was wounded, so 
was compelled to wear the unbleached shirts with blue 
cottonade collars and cuffs, which were supplied to 
all patients, numbered to correspond with the bunks. 
These he called State's prison uniform. One day, how- 
ever, Dr. Fenner from New Orleans, Louisiana, paid a 
visit to Buckner Hospital (then located at Newnan, 
Georgia), leaving with me two large boxes of clothing 
and stores for the Louisiana soldiers. Percy assisted to 
unpack these boxes, soon finding himself amply pro- 
vided with underclothing and a nice jacket and pants 
of gray, also a new blanket. He was pleased, but not 
yet quite satisfied, for the jacket was simply gray. He 
wanted it trimmed with red. 

It chanced that there was in one of the boxes a piece 
of red flannel. With this I trimmed the suit under 
his careful supervision. I can never forget how happy 
he was to get into this suit, or how he danced around 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 1^5 

me, pretending to go through the artillery drill, and to 
load and fire at imaginary Yankees. 

Later, his cap was retrimmed, the letters and artillery 
badge furbished up, and one beautiful day was made sad 
and gloomy to his friends and myself by the departure 
of this brave, dear boy, to rejoin his command. 

Eager, bright, full of fire and ardor, the young 
soldier went to meet his doom. He reached the front 
(where the company to which he belonged was always 
to be found) shortly before the battle of Peach-tree 
Creek, and here, his bright young face turned to the foe, 
his eager hands serving his gun to the last, he met a 
soldier's death. 

Alas ! poor Percy, his fate seemed hard ; yet, while 
sincerely grieving, I remembered with some degree of 
comfort the fact that so he had wished to die, — " Upon 
the field of glory." 

There came to the hospital at the same time with 
young Percy an intimate friend and comrade of his, 
whose name and the circumstances of his death were 
preserved in a diary kept hj me, but which, with all my 
papers, fell into the hands of the enemy subsequently. 
This poor fellow had pneumonia, which soon developed 
into typhoid. He was delirious when brought in and 
never regained consciousness. Yainly I strove to soothe 
him, stroking back the long, straight hair, black as a 
raven's wing, vainly trying to close the magnificent 
black eyes, which forever stared into space, while the 
plaintive voice repeated ceaselessly, " Viens a moi, oh, ma 
mere,'^ and thus he moaned and moaned until at last the 
white eyelids drooped beneath the gaze of Death, and 
the finger of eternal silence was laid upon the fevered 
lips. 

Of course Percy was not told how his friend died until 
long afterward, when his questions could no longer be 

11* 



126 MEMORIES. 

evaded. He was deeply moved, crying out, " I don't 
want to die like that. If I must die during this war, I 
hope I shall be instantly killed upon the battle-field." 
This wish was granted. 

He sleeps in a soldier's grave. In the light of eter- 
nity the sad mystery which still shadows the hearts 
of those who live to mourn the holy cause — loved and 
lost — exists no more for him. 

Besides the " Buckner," there were the " Braor^" and 
two more hospitals, the names of which I have forgotten, 
one presided over by two gentle ladies, — Mrs. Harrison 
and Mrs. , of Florida, — whose devotion and self- 
sacrifice, as well as their lovely Christian character and 
perfect manners, made them well-beloved by everybody 
at the post. Mrs. Harrison was a zealous Episco- 
palian. Through her influence and correspondence fre- 
quent services were held in Newnan. We several times 
enjoyed the ministrations of Bishops Quintard, Beck- 
with, and Wilmer. The large number of wounded men, 
and the fearful character of their wounds, made skill 
and devotion on the part of the surgeons of the great- 
est importance. These conditions were well fulfilled, and 
aided by the healthy locality "and" (during the first 
few months) " the excellent possibilities open to our 
foragers," many a poor fellow struggled back to com- 
parative health. I was particularly fortunate while in 
Newnan in having at my command supplies of clothing 
and money from both Louisiana and Alabama. This, 
with the aid of my own wages, which, although I had 
refused to receive them, had accumulated and been 
placed to my account, and which I now drew, gave me 
excellent facilities for providing comforts, not onl}^ for 
the sick, but for the braves at the front, whose rations 
were growing "small by degrees and beautifully less." 
Upon two occasions I received visits from the venerable 



NEU'NAN, GEORGIA. 127 

Dr. Fenner, of Louisiana, and his colleague, Mr. Collins. 
Each time they left money and clothing, giving me 
large discretionary powers, although specifying that, as 
the money was supplied by Louisianians, the soldiers 
from that State should be first considered. Through 
Mr. Peter Hamilton, of Mobile, Alabama, I also received 
boxes of clothing and dehcacies, and, upon two occasions, 
six hundred dollars in money, with the request, " Of 
course, help our boys first, but in any case where suffer- 
ings or need exist, use your own judgment." As there 
were hundreds entirely cut oif from home, actually suf- 
fering from want of clothing, sometimes needing a little 
good wine or extra food, I found many occasions where 
it seemed to me right to use this discretionary power, 
especially during visits to the front, which I was called 
upon to make about this time, first to my husband and 
his comrades in Kingston and Dalton, later to Macon to 
look up some Louisiana and Alabama soldiers, and lastly 
to Atlanta, where my husband and many other friends 
lay in the trenches. (Of these experiences more here- 
after.) 

Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Gamble, myself, and one or two 
others were the only Episcopalians among the ladies of 
the Post, but the services were attended by soldiers, 
both officers and privates. Mrs. Gamble, of course, led 
the choir. We could always find bassos and tenors. 
I sang alto. The music was really good. The death 
of Bishop Polk was a great grief to everybody", especi- 
ally to the faithful few among us who revered him as a 
minister of The Church. Even while saying to our- 
selves and to each other " God knows best," we could not 
at once stifle the bitterness of grief, for it seemed as if 
a mighty bulwark had been swept away. I had known 
Bishop Polk as a faithful and loving shepherd of souls, 
feeding his flock in green pastures, tenderly leading the 



128 MEMORIES. 

weary and grief-stricken ones beside the waters of com- 
fort. But when the peaceful fold was invaded, when 
threatening howls were arising on every side, — casting 
aside for a time the garb of a shepherd, he sallied forth, 
using valorously his trusty sword, opposing to the ad- 
vance of the foe his own faithful breast, never faltering 
until slain by the horrid fangs which greedily fastened 
themselves deep in his heart. As I have already men- 
tioned, I made during the winter and spring several vis- 
its to the front. At one time my husband, a member of 
Fenner's Louisiana Battery, was with his command in 
winter quarters at Kingston, whither I went to pay a 
visit and to inquire after the needs of the " boys." My 
little son (who had by this time joined me at Newnan) 
accompanied me. Kingston was at this time a bleak, 
dismal-looking place. I stopped at a large, barn-like 
hotel, from the gallery of which, while sitting with visit- 
ors from camp, I witnessed an arrival of G-eorgia militia, 
whose disembarkation from a train in front of the hotel 
was met by a noisy demonstration. They were a strange- 
looking set of men, but had "store clothes," warm wraps, 
sometimes tall hats, in all cases good ones. This, with 
the air of superiority they affected, was enough to pro- 
voke the fun-loving propensities of the ragged, rough- 
looking veterans who had collected to watch for the 
arrival of the train. As the shaking, rickety cars passed 
out of sight, these raw troops walked up to the hotel 
and there strode up and down, assuming supreme indif- 
ference to the storm of raillery which assailed them. 
Of course my sympathies were with the veterans, and 
I laughed heartily at their pranks. One of the first to 
set the ball in motion was a tall, athletic-looking soldier 
clad in jeans pants, with a faded red stripe adorning one 
leg only, ragged shoes tied up with twine strings, and a 
flannel shirt which undoubtedly had been washed by the 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 129 

Confederate military process (i.e., tied by a string to a 
bush on the bank of a stream, allowed to lie in the water 
awhile, then stirred about with a stick or beat upon a 
rock, and hung up to drip and dry upon the nearest 
bush or tied to the swaying limb of a tree). "A shock- 
ing bad hat" of the slouch order completed his costume. 
Approaching a tall specimen of" melish," who wore a new 
homesj^un suit of " butternut jeans," a gorgeous cravat, 
etc., the soldier opened his arms and cried out in intense 
accents, ^^Let me kiss him for his mother!" Another 
was desired to " come out of that hat." A big veteran, 
laying his hand on the shoulder of a small, scared-looking, 
little victim, and wiping his own eyes upon his old hat, 
whined out, "I say, buddy, you didn't bring along no 
sugar-teats, did you? I'm got a powerful hankerin' 
atter some." An innocent-looking soldier would stop 
suddenly before one of the new-comers neatly dressed, 
peer closely at his shirt-front, renewing the scrutiny 
again and again with increasing earnestness, then, strik- 
ing an attitude, would cry out, " Biled, by Jove !" One, 
with a stiff, thick, new overcoat, Avas met with the anx- 
ious inquiry, " Have you got plenty of stuffing in that 
coat, about here' (with a hand spread over stomach 
and heart), " because the Yankee bullets is mighty pene- 
trating." Each new joke was hailed with shouts of 
laughter and ear-piercing rebel yells, but at last the 
" melish" was marched off and the frolic ended. 

I received two invitations for the following day, one 
to dine with the officers of Fenner's Louisiana Battery, 
and one, which I accepted, from the soldiers of my hus- 
band's mess. About twelve o'clock the next morning 
an ambulance stood before the door of the hotel. From 
it descended a spruce-looking colored driver, who re- 
marked, as he threw the reins over the mule's back, 
''Don't nobody go foolin' wid dat da mule ontwill I comes 



130 MEMORIES. 

back. I jes gwine to step ober to de store yander 'bout 
some biziness fur de cap'n. Dat mule he feel mity gaily 
dis mornin'. Look like he jes tryin' hisseff when he fin' 
nuffin' behin' him but dis amperlants (ambulance) stid ob 
dem hebby guns." Off he went, leaving the mule stand- 
ing without being tied, and looking an incarnation of 
mischief. The road to camp was newly cleared and full 
of stumps and ruts. As I stood upon the upper gallery 
awaiting the return of our Jehu, our little boy, taking ad- 
vantage of the extra fondness inspired in the heart of his 
father by long absence, clamored to be lifted into the am- 
bulance. This wish was gratified, his father intending to 
take the reins and mount to the driver's seat, but before he 
could do so the mule started off at headlong speed, with 
Georgie's scared face looking out at the back, and perhaps 
a dozen men and boys in hot pursuit. The mule went on 
to camp, creating great alarm there. The child in some 
miraculous manner rolled out at the back of the ambu- 
lance, and was picked up unhurt. This accident de- 
layed matters a little, but in due time we arrived at the 
village of log-huts, called "Camp," and, having paid 
our respects to the officers, repaired to the hut of my 
husband's mess. The dinner was already cooking out- 
side. Inside on a rough shelf were piles of shining tin- 
cups and plates, newly polished. The lower bunk had 
been filled with new, jpine straw, and made as soft as 
possible by piling upon it all the blankets of the mess. 
This formed the chair of state. Upon it were placed, 
first, myself (the centre figure), on one side my hus- 
band, exempt from duty for the day, on the other my 
little boy, who, far from appreciating the intended 
honor, immediately " squirmed" down, and ran off on a 
tour of investigation through the camp. The mess con- 
sisted of six men including my husband, of whom the 
youngest was Lionel C. Levy, Jr., a mere boy, but a 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 131 

splendid soldier, full of fun and nerve and dash. Then 
there was my husband's bosom friend, J. Hollingsworth, 
or Uncle Jake, as he was called by everybody. Of the 
industrial pursuits of the mess, he was the leading spirit, 
indeed, in every way his resources were unbounded. His 
patience, carefulness, and pains-taking truly achieved 
wonderful results in contriving and carrying into execu- 
tion plans for the comfort of the mess. He always 
carried an extra haversack, which contained everything 
that could be thought of to meet contingencies or repair 
the neglect of other people. He was a devoted patriot 
and a contented, uncomplaining soldier; never sick, 
always on duty, a thorough gentleman, kindly in im- 
pulses and acts, but well, yes, there was one spot upon 

this sun, — he was a confirmed bachelor. He could face 
the hottest fire upon the battle-field, but a party of 
ladies — never with his own consent. Upon the day in 
question, however, I was not only an invited guest, but 
the wife of his messmate and friend. So, overcoming 
his diffidence, he made himself very agreeable, and 
meeting several times afterward during the war, under 
circumstances which made pleasant intercourse just as 
imperative, we became fast friends, and have remained 
so to this day. John Sharkey, Miles Sharkey, and one 
more, whose name I have forgotten, comprised, with 
those mentioned above, the entire mess. The dinner 
was excellent, better than many a more elegant and 
plentiful repast of which I have partaken since the war. 
All the rations of beef and pork were combined to make 
a fricassee a la camp, the very small rations of flour being 
mixed with the cornmeal to make a large, round loaf 
of " stuff"." These delectable dishes were both cooked 
in bake-ovens outside the cabin. From cross-sticks, 
arranged gypsy-fashion, swung an iron pot, in which 
was prepared the cornmeal coff'ee, which, with "long 



132 MEMORIES. 

sweetening" (molasses) and without milk, composed the 
meal. In this well-arranged mess the work was so 
divided that each man had his day to cut all the wood, 
bring all the water, cook, wash dishes, and keep the 
cabin in order. So, on this occasion there was no 
confusion. All was accomplished with precision. In 
due time a piece of board was placed before me with 
my rations arranged upon it in a bright tin plate, my 
coffee being served in a gorgeous mug, which, I strongly 
suspect, had been borrowed for the occasion, having 
once been a shaving-mug. Dinner over. Lieutenant 
Cluverius called to escort me through the camp, and 
at the officers' quarters I met many old acquaintances. 
Upon inquiry, I found the boys in camp contented and 
entirely unwilling to receive any benefit from the fund 
placed in my hands. They had taken the chances of a 
soldier's life, and were quite willing to abide by them. 

The terrible bumping which I had experienced while 
riding to camp, in the ambulance drawn by the " gaily 
mule," disinclined me for another ride. So, just at sun- 
set, my husband and I, with our boy and one or two 
friends, walked through the piny woods to the hotel, 
whence I returned next day to JS'ewnan. This was 
during the winter. Later, I made a second trip, this 
time to Macon, having been called upon to supply money 
to the family of an old soldier (deceased) who wanted 
to reach home. Wishing to investigate in person, I 
went to Macon. On the morning of my return, while 
passing through one of the hospitals, I met at the 
bedside of a Louisiana soldier a member of Fenner's 
Battery, John Augustin, of New Orleans. At the depot 
we met again, and the gentleman very kindly took 
charge of me. I was going to Newnan, he returning 
to camp. Delightful conversation beguiled the way. 
Among other subjects, poets and poetry were discussed. 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 133 

I told him of Dr. Archer, and a beautiful "Ode to 
Hygeia" composed by him, parts of which I remerabered 
and repeated. Gradually I discovered that Mr. Augus- 
tin had an unfinished manuscript of his own with him, 
entitled "Doubt," and at last persuaded him to let 
me read it. Finding me interested, he yielded to my 
earnest request, — that he would send me all his poems in 
manuscript. In due time they came, and with them a 
dedication to myself, so gracefully conceived, so beauti- 
fully expressed, that I may be pardoned for inserting it 
here. 

" L'ENYOl. 

" TO MRS. FANNIE A. BEERS. 

" To you, though known but yesterday, I tmst 
These winged thoughts of mine. 
Be not, I pray, too critically just, 
Kather be mercy thine ! 

** Nor think on reading my despairing rhymes 
That I am prone to sigh. 
Poets, like children, weep and laugh at times, 
"Without scarce knowing why ! 

*' Thoughts tend to heaven, mine are weak and faint. 
Please help them up for me ; 
The sick and wounded bless you as a saint, 
In this my patron be ; 

" And as the sun when shining it appears 
On dripping rain awhile, 
Make a bright rainbow of my fancy's tears 
With your condoling smile. 
"Kingston February 23, 1864." 

At the front, desultory fighting was always going on. 
Our army under General Johnston acting on the de- 
fensive, although retreating, contesting every step of 
the way, and from intrenched position, doing great 

12 



134 MEMORIES. 

damage to the enemy. As the spring fairly opened, 
our troops became more actively engaged. From the 
skirmishes came to us many wounded. In May, the 
battle of New Hope Church was fought. General John- 
ston, in his " Narrative," speaks of this as " the affair at 
New Hope." Judging from my own knowledge of the 
number of wounded who were sent to the rear, and 
the desperate character of their wounds, I should say 
it was a very terrible "affair." A great many officers 
were wounded and all our wards were full. There 
came to me some special friends from Tenner's Louisi- 
ana Battery, which was heavily engaged, losing several 
men and nearly all the horses. Lieutenant Wat. Tyler 
Cluverius, while standing on the top of the breast- 
works and turning towards his men to wave his sword, 
was shot through both shoulders, a very painful wound, 
but which the gallant young soldier made light of, pre- 
tending to be deeply mortified because " he had been 
shot in the hack.'" Although an exceptional soldier, he 
was a most troublesome patient, because his strong 
desire to return to his command made him restless and 
dissatisfied, greatly retarding his recovery. Indeed, 
he would not remain in bed or in his ward. A more 
splendid-looking officer I never saw. Better still, un- 
der his jacket of gray there beat a heart instinct with 
every virtue which belongs by nature to a Virginia 
gentleman. With the ladies of the "post" he became a 
prime favorite. So kind and attentive were they that 
I gave myself little thought concerning him. He was 
off and away in a wonderfully short time, for duty lay 
at the front and the strongest attractions could not out- 
weigh its claims. 

W. T. Yaudry, also of Fenner's Louisiana Battery, was 
by his own request sent to me. His wound was as pain- 
ful as any that can be imagined. He had been struck 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 135 

full in the pit of the stomach by a spent ball, and was 
completely doubled up. He had been left on the field 
for dead, and for some time it was feared that fatal 
internal injuries had been received. From the nature 
of the wound, a full examination could not be made at 
first. Speedy relief was quite impossible. Even the loss 
of a limb or the most severe flesh-wound would have 
caused less intense agony. Courage and endurance 
equally distinguish the true soldier: the one distinction 
was his already, the other he now nobly won during 
days of exquisite torture. I little thought as I bent 
over him day after day, bathing the fevered brow, meet- 
ing with sorrowful sympathy the eyes dim with anguish, 
that in this suffering boy I beheld one of the future 
deliverers of an outraged and oppressed people. The 
officers' ward was delightfully situated on the corner 
of the main street. Its many windows commanded a 
pleasant view of a beautiful shaded square in the midst 
of which stood the brick court-house (now filled with 
sick, and pertaining to the Bragg Hospital). The win- 
dows on the side street gave a view far up the street, 
becoming a post of observation for the gallant young offi- 
cers within, who invariably arranged themselves here "/or 
inspection,'' at the usual hour for the ladies' promenade, 
looking as became interesting invalids, returning with 
becoming languor the glances of bright eyes in which 
shone the pity which we are told is " akin to love." Later 
these knights being permitted to join in the promenade, 
made the very most of their helplessness, enjojnng hugely 
the necessary ministrations so simply and kindly given. 
Among these officers were two whose condition excited 
my most profound sympathy as well as required special 
care. Both were exiles ; both badly wounded. One, 
indeed, bore a wound so terrible that even though I 
looked upon it every day, I could never behold it with- 



136 MEMORIES. 

out a shudder. From a little above the knee to the toes 
the mechanism of the leg was entirely exposed, except 
upon the heel, which always rested in a suspensory 
bandage lifted above the level of the bed upon which he 
rested. Every particle of the flesh had sloughed off, and 
the leg began to heal not " by first intention" but by 
unhealthy granulations like excrescences. These had 
constantly to be removed, either by the use of nitric acid 
(I believe) or by the knife. As may be imagined, it was 
horribly painful, and there was no chloroform. Day after 
day I was sent for, and stood by, while this terrible thing 
was going on, wiping the sweat from the face that, though 
pale as death, never quivered. Save an occasional groan, 
deep and suppressed, there was no "fuss." 

Does it seem to you that this was exceptional, dear 
reader? Ah ! no ; in the wards outside, where lay hun- 
dreds of private soldiers, without the pride of rank to 
sustain them, only their simple, noble manhood, I daily 
witnessed such scenes. The courage and daring of our 
soldiers have won full appreciation from the whole 
world. Of their patient endurance, I was for four 
years a constant witness, and I declare that it was sub- 
lime beyond conception. I cannot remember the name 
of the heroic officer whose wound I have described. I 
remember, however, that Dr. Jackson treated it success- 
fully, and that in the desperate days, towards the close 
of the war, the wounded man was again at his post. I 
know not whether he fell in battle or if he still lives 
bearing that horrible scar. Captain Weller, of Louis- 
ville, Kentucky, was also an inmate of the same ward. 
My remembrance of him is that he also was badly 
wounded. I also recollect that he was a great favorite 
with his comrades in the ward, who spoke enthusiasti- 
cally of his " record." He was never gay like the others, 
but self-contained and reticent, and frequently grave 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 137 

and sad, as became an exile from "the old Kentucky 
home." My cares were at this time of constant skir- 
mishing, greatly increased by anxiety for my husband. 
He had at the battle of New Hope Church, while carry- 
ing ammunition from the caisson to the gun, received a 
slight wound in the left foot, but did not consider it 
of suflScient importance to cause him to leave his com- 
mand. Later, however, he succumbed to dysentery, and 
after the battle of Jonesboro', although having served 
his gun to the last, he was utterly overcome, and fell by 
the road-side. The last ambulance picked him up, and 
he was sent to Newnan, as all supposed, to die. Had I 
not been in a position to give him every advantage and 
excellent nursing he must have died. Even with this, 
the disease was only arrested, not cured, and for years 
after the war still clung about him. Under Providence, 
his life was saved at that time. This one blessing 
seemed to me a full recompense for all I had hitherto 
encountered, and a thorough justification of vdy persist- 
ence in the course I marked out for myself at the be- 
ginning of the war. Various " affairs" continued to em- 
ploy the soldiers at the front ; in all of these our losses 
were com]paratively small. I never saw the soldiers in 
better spirits. There was little if any " shirking." As 
soon as — almost before — they were recovered they cheer- 
fully reported for duty. The "expediency" of John- 
ston's retreat was freely discussed. All seemed to feel 
that the enemy was being drawn away from his base 
of supplies into a strange country, where he would be 
trapped at last, and to feel sure that it was " all right." 
"Let old Joe alone, he knows what he is about," and on 
every hand expressions of strong affection and thorough 
confidence. The army was certainly far from being 
" demoralized," as General Hood must have discovered, 
when, immediately afterward, on the 22d of July, and 

12* 



138 MEMORIES. 

later at Franklin, they withstood so magnificently the 
shock of battle, and at the word of command burled 
themselves again and again against the enemy, rushing 
dauntlessly onward to meet overwhelming numbers and 
certain death. On the 18th of July, the news reached 
us that General Johnston had been relieved from com- 
mand, and that General Hood had succeeded him. I 
knew nothing of the relative merits of the two com- 
manders, and had no means of judging but by the effect 
upon the soldiers by whom I was then surrounded. The 
whole post seemed as if stricken by some terrible calam- 
ity. Convalescents walked about with lagging steps 
and gloomy faces. In every ward lay men who wept 
bitterly or groaned aloud or, covering their faces, re- 
fused to speak or eat. From that hour the buoyant, 
hopeful spirit seemed to die out. I do not think any- 
thing was ever the same again. For, when after the 
awful sacrifice of human life which followed the inaugu- 
ration of the new policy, the decimated army still were 
forced to retreat, the shadow of doom began to creep 
slowly upon the land. The anchor of my soul was my 
unbounded confidence in President Davis ; while he was 
at the helm I felt secure of ultimate success, and bore 
present ills and disappointments patiently, never doubti?ig. 
Meantime, disquieting rumors were flying about, rail- 
road communication was cut off here and there, and 
with it mail facilities. Of course the Confederate 
leaders were apprised of the movements of the Fed- 
erals, but at the hospital post we were constantly on the 
qui vive. Large numbers of convalescents were daily 
returning to the front, among them Lieutenant Cluve- 
rius, Mr. Yaudry, and Captain Weller. 

Eumors of the approach of the Federal forces under 
McCook had for da3'S disquieted our minds. The little 
town of Newnan and immediately surrounding country 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 139 

was already full of refugees. Every day brought more. 
Besides, the presence of hundreds of sick and wounded, 
in the hospitals which had been established there, ren- 
dered the prospect of an advance of the enemy by no 
means a pleasant one. But, as far as the hospitals were 
concerned, the surgeons in charge must await orders 
from headquarters. As long as none were received, we 
felt comparatively safe. 

One night, however, a regiment of Eoddy's Confed- 
erate Cavalry quietly rode in, taking possession of the 
railroad depot at the foot of the hill, and otherwise 
mysteriously disposing of themselves in the same 
neighborhood. The following morning opened bright 
and lovely, bringing to the anxious watchers of the 
night before that sense of security which always comes 
with the light. All business was resumed as usual. I 
had finished my early rounds, fed my special cases, and 
was just entering the distributing-room to send breakfast 
to the wards, when a volley of musketry, quickly fol- 
lowed by another and another, startled the morning air. 
Quickly an excited crowd collected and rushed to the 
top of the hill commanding a view of the depot and rail- 
road track. I ran with the rest. ''TAe Yankees! the Yan- 
kees T was the cry. The firing continued for a few mo- 
ments, then ceased. When the smoke cleared away, our 
own troops could be seen drawn up on the railroad and 
on the depot platform. The hill on the opposite side 
seemed to swarm with Yankees. Evidently they had 
expected to surprise the town, but, finding themselves 
opposed by a force w^hose numbers they were unable to 
estimate, they hastily retreated up the hill. By that 
time a crowd of impetuous boys had armed themselves 
and were running down the hill on our side to join the 
Confederates. Few men followed (of the citizens), for 
those who were able had already joined the army. 



140 MEMORIES. 

Those who remained were fully occupied in attending to 
the women and children. 

It was evident that the fight was only delayed. An 
attack might be expected at any moment. An exodus 
from the town at once began. 

Already refugees from all parts of the adjacent coun- 
try had begun to pour into and pass through, in endless 
procession and every conceivable and inconceivable style 
of conveyance, drawn by horses, mules, oxen, and even 
by a single steer or cow. Most of these were women 
and boys, though the faces of young children appeared 
here and there, — as it were, " thrown in" among the 
"plunder," — looking pitifully weary and frightened, 
yet not so heart-broken as the anxious women who 
knew not where their journey was to end. JSTor had 
they " where to lay their heads," some of them having 
left behind only the smoking ruins of a home, which, 
though "ever so lowly," was "the sweetest spot on 
earth" to them. McCook, by his unparalleled cruelty, 
had made his name a horror. 

The citizens simply stampeded, " nor stood upon the 
order of their going." There was no time for delibera- 
tion. They could not move goods or chattels, only a few 
articles of clothing; no room for trunks and boxes. 
Every carriage, wagon, and cart was loaded down with 
human freight; every saddle-horse was in demand. All 
the negroes from the hospital as well as those belonging 
to the citizens were removed at once to a safe distance. 
These poor creatures were as much frightened as any- 
body and as glad to get away. Droves of cattle and 
sheep were driven out on the run, lowing and bleating 
their indignant remonstrance. 

While the citizens were thus occupied, the surgeons 
in charge of hospitals were not less busy, though far 
more collected and methodical. Dr. McAllister, of the 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 141 

"Buckner," and Dr. S. M. Bemiss, of the "Bragg," 
were both brave, cool, executive men. Their self-posses- 
sion, their firm, steady grasp of the reins of authority 
simplified matters greatly. Only those unable to bear 
arms were left in the wards. Convalescents would have 
resented and probably disobeyed an order to remain. 
Not only were they actuated by the brave spirit of 
Southern soldiers, but they preferred anything 'to re- 
maining to be captured, — better far death than the 
horrors of a N^orthern prison. So all quietly presented 
themselves, and, with assistant-surgeons, druggists, and 
hospital attendants, were armed, officered, and marched 
off to recruit the regiment before mentioned. 

The ladies, wives of officers, attendants, etc., were more 
difficult to manage, for dread of the " Yankees," com- 
bined with the pain of parting with their husbands or 
friends, who would soon go into battle, distracted them. 
Fabulous prices were offered for means of conveyance. 
As fast as one was procured it was filled and crowded. 
At last, all were sent off except one two-horse buggy, 
which Dr. McAllister had held for his wife and myself, 
and which was driven by his own negro boy, Sam. 
Meantime, I had visited all the wards, for some of the 
patients were very near death, and all were in a state 
of great and injurious excitement. I did not for a 
moment pretend to withstand their entreaties that I 
would remain with them, having already decided to do 
so. Their helplessness appealed so strongly to my sym- 
pathies that I found it impossible to resist. Besides, I 
had an idea and a hope that even in the event of the 
town being taken I might prevail with the enemy to 
ameliorate their condition as prisoners. So I promised, 
and quietly passed from ward to ward announcing 
my determination, trying to speak cheerfully. Excite- 
ment, so great that it produced outward calm, enabled 



142 MEMORIES. 

me to resist the angry remonstrances of the surgeon 
and the tearful entreaties of Mrs. McAllister, who was 
nearly beside herself with apprehension. At last every- 
body was gone ; intense quiet succeeded the scene of 
confusion. I was alone^ — left in charge. A crushing 
sense of responsibility fell upon my heart. The alarm 
had been first given about eight o'clock in the morning. 
By thiee the same afternoon soldiers, citizens, all had 
disappeared. 

Only a few men who, by reason of wounds too re- 
cently healed or from other causes, were unable to 
march or to fight had been left to act as nurses. 

I sat down upon the steps of my office to think it 
over and to gather strength for all I had to do. On 
either side of me were two-story stores which had been 
converted into wards, where the sickest patients were 
generally placed, that I might have easy access to them. 
Suddenly, from one of the upper wards, I heard a hoarse 
cry, as if some one had essayed to give the rebel yell. 
Following it a confused murmur of voices. Running 
hastily up-stairs, I met at the door of the ward a 
ghastly figure, clad all in white (the hospital shirt and 
drawers), but with a military cap on his head. It was 
one of my fever patients who had been lying at death's 
door for days. The excitement of the morning having 
brought on an access of fever with delirium, he had 
arisen from his bed, put on his cap, and started, yelling, 
" to join the hoysT Weak as I had supposed him to be, 
his strength almost over-mastered my own. I could 
hardly prevent him from going down the stairs. The 
only man in the ward able to assist me at all was 
minus an arm and just recovering after amputation. 
I was afraid his wound might possibly begin to bleed, 
besides, I knew that any man's interference would ex- 
cite the patient still more. Relying upon the kindly, 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 143 

chivalrous feeling which my presence always seemed to 
inspire in my patients, I promised to get his gun for 
him if he would go back and put on his clothes, and, 
placing my arm around the already tottering and sway- 
ing figure, by soothing and coaxing got him back to the 
bed. A sinking spell followed, from which he never 
rallied. In a lower ward another death occurred, due 
also to sudden excitement. 

Fearful of the eifect that a knowledge of this would 
have upon other patients, I resorted to deception, de- 
claring that the dead men were better and asleep, cover- 
ing them, excluding light from windows near them, and 
even pretending at intervals to administer medicines. 

And now came another trial, from which I shrank 
fearfully, but which must be borne. 

In the " wounded wards," and in tents outside where 
men having gangrene were isolated, horrible sights 
awaited me, — sights which I trembled to look upon, — 
fearful wounds which had, so far, been attended to only 
by the surgeons. 

These wounds were now dry, and the men were groan- 
ing with pain. Minute directions having been left with 
me, I must nerve myself to uncover the dreadful places, 
wash them, and apply fresh cloths. In the cases of gan- 
grene, poultices of yeast and charcoal, or some other 
preparation left by the surgeons. 

Entering Ward JSTo. 3, where there were many badly- 
wounded men, I began my work upon a boy of perhaps 
nineteen years, belonging to a North Carolina regiment, 
who had one-half of his face shot away. 

My readers may imagine the dreadful character of 
the wounds in this ward, when I relate that a day or 
two after a terrible battle at the front, w^hen dozens of 
wounded were brought in, so badly were they mangled 
and so busy were the surgeons, that I was permitted to 



144 MEMORIES. 

dress this boy's face unaided. Then it was bad enough, 
but neither so unsightly nor so jiainful as now that in- 
flammation had supervened. The poor boy tried not to 
flinch. His one bright eye looked gratefully up at me. 
After I had finished, he wrote upon the paper which was 
always at his hand, "You didn't hurt me like them 
doctors. Don't let the Yankees get me, I want to have 
another chance at them when I get well." Having 
succeeded so well, I " took heart of grace," and felt little 
trepidation afterward. But — oh ! the horror of it. An 
Arkansas soldier lay gasping out his life, a piece of 
shell having carried away a large portion of his breast, 
leaving the lungs exposed to view. No hope, save to 
alleviate his pain by applying cloths wet with cold water. 
Another, from Tennessee, had lost a part of his thigh, 
— and so on. The amputations were my greatest dread, 
lest I might displace bandages and set an artery bleed- 
ing. So I dared not remove the cloths, but used an 
instrument invented by one of our surgeons, as may 
be imagined, of primitive construction, but which, wet- 
ting the tender wounds gradually by a sort of spray, 
gave great relief. Of course, fresh cloths were a constant 
necessity for suppurating wounds, but for those nearly 
healed, or simply inflamed, the spray was invaluable. 
The tents were the last visited, and by the time I had 
finished the rounds, it was time to make some arrange- 
ments for the patients' supper, for wounded men are 
always hungry. 

I remember gratefully to this day the comfort and 
moral support I received during this trying ordeal from 
a South Carolina soldier, who even then knew that his 
own hours were numbered, and was looking death in 
the face with a calm resignation and courage which was 
simply sublime. He had been shot in the spine, and 
from the waist down was completely paralyzed. After 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 145 

he had been wounded, some one unintentionally having 
laid him down too near a fire, his feet were burned in a 
shocking manner. He was one of the handsomest men 
I ever saw, and, even in his present condition, of com- 
manding presence and of unusual intelligence. I strive 
in vain to recall his name, but memory in this as in many 
other cases of patients to whom I was particularly at- 
tracted will present their faces only. Calling me to his 
bedside he spoke kindly and cheerfully, praising my 
efforts, encouraging me to go on, drawing upon his store 
of general knowledge for expedients to meet the most 
trying cases. 

Everything that Dr. McAllister did was well and 
completely done. He was kind-hearted, generous, ready 
to do or sacrifice anything for the real good of his 
patients ; but his rules once laid down became immuta- 
ble laws, not to be transgressed by any. His constant 
supervision and enforcement of rules affected every de- 
partment of the hospital. In my own, I had only to 
report a dereliction of duty, and the fate of the culprit 
was sealed. If a woman, I had orders to discharge her; 
if a man, the next train bore him to his regiment or to 
the office of the medical director, upon whose tender 
mercies no wrong-doer could rely. 

Consequently, I had only to go to my well-ordered 
kitchen to find ready the food which it had been my 
first care to have prepared in view of the (as I hoped) 
temporary absence of the cooks. The departing men 
had all taken marching rations with them, but there 
was still plenty of food on hand. A bakery was at- 
tached to the Buckner. We also owned several cows. 
In the bakery was plenty of corn-bread and some loaves 
of flour-bread, although flour was even then becoming 
scarce. 

The cows, with full udders, stood lowing at the bars 

G ^ 13 



146 MEMORIES. 

of the pen. Among the doubts and fears that had as- 
sailed me, the idea that I might have trouble with these 
cows never occurred to my mind. During my child- 
hood my mother had owned several. I had often seen 
them milked. One had only to seize the teats firmly, 
pull quietly downward, and two streams of rich milk 
would follow. Oh, yes! I could do that easily. But 
when I arrived at the pen, a tin bucket in one hand, 
a milking-stool in the other, and letting down the bars, 
crept inside, the cows eyed me with evident distrust 
and even shook their horns in a menacing manner 
which quite alarmed me.. However, I marched up to 
the one which appeared the mildest-looking, and sitting 
down by her side, seized two of the teats, fully expect- 
ing to hear the musical sound of two white streamlets 
as they fell upon the bottom of the tin bucket. Not a 
drop could I get. My caressing words and gentle re- 
monstrances had not the slightest effect. If it is possi- 
ble for an animal to feel and show contempt, it was 
revealed in the gaze that cow cast upon me as she 
turned her head to observe my manoeuvres. I had heard 
that some cows have a bad habit of holding back their 
milk. Perhaps this was one of them. I would try 
another. Eemoving the stool to the side of another 
meek-looking animal, I essayed to milk her. But she 
switched her tail in my face, lifting a menacing, hor- 
rid hoof. "/S'oA, bossy!" cried I. "Pretty, pretty cow 
that makes pleasant milk to soak my bread." In an- 
other moment I was seated flat upon the ground, while 
my pretty, pretty cow capered wildly among the rest, 
so agitating them that, thinking discretion the better 
part of valor, I hastily climbed over the fence at the 
point nearest to me and returned to the kitchen. 

What should I do now ? Perhaps one of the decrepit 
nurses left in the ward knew how to milk. But no. 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. U7 

they did not, except one poor, limping rheumatic who 
could only use one hand. Just then a feeble-looking 
patient from the Bragg Hospital came tottering along. 
He also knew how to milk, and they both volunteered 
to tr}'. Much to my surprise and delight, the cows now 
behaved beautifully, perhaps owing to the fact that, 
obeying the injunctions of my two recruits, I provided 
each with a bundle of fodder to distract their attention 
during the milking process. There was more milk than 
I could possibly use, as nearly all the convalescents were 
absent. So I set several pans of it away, little thinking 
how soon it would be needed. 

By the time all had been fed, I felt very weary ; but 
it was midnight before I found a minute's time to rest. 

I had made frequent rounds through all the buildings 
of the hospital, each time finding some one who had 
need of me. At last, wearied out by the excitement of 
the day, the sick grew quiet and inclined to sleep. Ee- 
leased for a time, I sat down on the steps of my office to 
think and to listen : for I did not know anything of the 
whereabouts of the enemy. The town might have been 
surrendered. At any moment the Federal soldiers might 
appear. Just then, however, the streets were utterly 
deserted. The stillness was oppressive. 

If I could only discover a friendly light in one of these 
deserted dwellings. Oh, for the sound of a kindly voice, 
the sight of a familiar face ! 

Doubtless there may have been some who had re- 
mained to protect their household gods, but they were 
women, and remained closely within doors. 

Melancholy thoughts oppressed me. Through gather- 
ing tears I gazed at the pale moon, whose light seemed 
faded and wan. There came to me memories of the 
long-ago, when I had strayed among the orange-groves 
of my own dear home under a moonhght far more radi- 



148 MEMORIES. 

ant, happy in loved companionship, listening with de- 
light to the voices of the night, which murmured only 
of love and joy and hope, inhaling the perfume of a 
thousand flowers. To-night, as the south wind swept 
by in fitful gusts, it seemed to bear to my ears the 
sound of sorrow and mourning from homes and shrines 
where hope lay dead amid the ruined idols cast down 
and broken by that stern iconoclast — War. 

As I sat thus, buried in thought, a distant sound broke 
the silence, sending a thrill of terror to my heart. It 
was the tramp of many horses rapidly approaching. 
"Alas ! alas ! the enemy had come upon us from the rear. 
Our brave defenders were surrounded and their retreat 
cut ofP." 

I knew not what to expect, but anxiety for my patients 
banished fear. Seizing a light-wood torch, I ran up the 
road, hoping to interview the oflScers at the head of the 
column and to intercede for my sick, perhaps to prevent 
intrusion into the wards. To my almost wild delight, 
the torch-light revealed the dear old gray uniforms. It 
was a portion of Wheeler's Cavalry sent to reinforce 
Eoddy, whose meagre forces, aided by the volunteers 
from [N'ewnan, had held the Federals in check until 
now, but were anxiously expecting this reinforcement. 

The men had ridden far and fast. They now came to 
a halt in front of the hospital, but had not time to dis- 
mount, hungry and thirsty though they were. The 
regimental servants, however, came in search of water 
with dozens of canteens hung around them, rattling in 
such a manner as to show that they were quite empty. 
For the next half- hour, I believe, I had almost the 
strength of Samson. Eushing to the bakery, I loaded 
baskets with bread and handed them up to the soldier- 
boys to be passed along until emptied. I then poured 
all the milk I had into a large bucket, added a dipper, 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 149 

and, threading in and out among the horses, ladled out 
dipperfuls until it was all gone. I then distributed 
about four buckets of water in the same way. My ex- 
citement was so great that not a sensation of fear or of 
fatigue assailed me. Horses to the right of me, horses 
to the left of me, horses in front of me, snorted and 
pawed ; but God gave strength and courage : I was not 
afraid. 

A comparatively small number had been supplied, 
when a courier from Roddy's command rode up to hasten 
the reinforcements. At once the whole column was put 
in motion. As the last rider disappeared, and the tramp- 
ing of the horses died away in the distance, a sense of 
weariness and exhaustion so overpowered me that I 
could have slept where I stood. So thorough was my 
confidence in the brave men who were sure to repel the 
invaders that all sense of danger passed away. 

My own sleeping-room was in a house situated at the 
foot of the hill. I could have gone there and slept 
securely, but dared not leave my charges. Sinking upon 
the rough lounge in my office, intending only to rest, I 
fell fast asleep. I was awakened by one of the nurses, 
who had come to say that I was needed by a patient 
whom he believed to be dying, and who lay in a ward 
on the other side of the square. 

As we passed out into the street, another beautiful 
morning was dawning. Upon entering Ward Ko. 9, 
we* found most of the patients asleep. But in one cor- 
ner, between two windows which let in the fast-increas- 
ing light, lay an elderly man, calmly breathing his 
life away. The morning breeze stirred the thin gray 
hair upon his hollow temples, rustling the leaves of 
the Bible which lay upon his pillow. Stooping over 
him to feel the fluttering pulse, and to wipe the clammy 
sweat from brow and hands, I saw that he was indeed 



150 MEMORIES. 

dying, a victim of that dreadful scourge that decimated 
the ranks of the Confederate armies more surely than 
many battles, — dysentery, — which, if not cured in the 
earlier stages, resulted too surely, as now, in consump- 
tion of the bowels. 

He was a Kentuckian, cut off from home and friends, 
and dying among strangers. An almost imperceptible 
glance indicated that he wished me to take up his Bible. 
The fast-stiffening lips whispered, " Beady I read to 
him the Fourteenth Chapter of St. John, stopping fre- 
quently to note if the faint breathing yet continued. 
Each time he would move the cold fingers in a way that 
evidently meant ^^ go on.'' After I had finished the read- 
ing, he whispered, so faintly that I could just catch the 
words, " Bock of Ages,'' and I softly sang the beautiful 
hymn. 

Two years before I could not have done this so calmly. 
At first every death among my patients seemed to me 
like a personal bereavement. Trying to read or to sing 
by the bedsides of the dying, uncontrollable tears and 
sobs would choke my voice. As I looked my last upon 
dead faces, I would turn away shuddering and sobbing, 
for a time unfit for duty. Now, my voice did not once 
fail or falter. Calmly I watched the dying patient, and 
saw (as I had seen a hundred times before) the gray 
shadow of death steal over the shrunken face, to be 
replaced at the last by a light so beautiful that I could 
well believe it came shining through " the gates ajar." 

It was sunrise when I again emerged fronf Ward No. 
9. Hastening to my room, I quickly bathed and re- 
dressed, returning to my oflSce in half an hour, refreshed 
and ready for duty. 

The necessity for breakfast sufficient to feed the hungry 
patients recalled to me the improvidence of my action 
in giving away so much bread the night before. It had 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 151 

gone a very little way toward supplying the needs of so 
large a body of soldiers, and now my own needed it. 

There was no quartermaster, no one to issue fresh 
rations. Again I had the cows milked, gathered up 
all the corn-bread that was left, with some hard-tack, 
and with the aid of the few decrepit nurses before men- 
tioned made a fire, and warmed up the soup and soup- 
meat which had been prepared for the convalescent table 
the day before, but was not consumed. My patients, 
comprehending the situation, made the best of it. But 
the distribution was a tedious business, as many of the 
patients had to be fed by myself. 

I had hardly begun when some of the men declared 
they " heard guns." I could not then detect the sound, 
but soon it grew louder and more sustained, and then 
we k7iew a battle was in progress. For hours the fight 
went on. We awaited the result in painful suspense. 
At last the ambulances came in, bringing some of the 
surgeons and some wounded men, returning immediately 
for others. At the same time the hospital steward with 
his attendants and several of our nurses arrived, also 
the linen-master, the chief cook, and the baker. With 
them came orders to prepare wards for a large number 
of wounded, both Confederate and Federal. Presently a 
cloud of dust appeared up the road, and a detail of Con- 
federate cavalry rode into town, bringing eight hundred 
Federal prisoners, who were consigned to a large cotton 
warehouse, situated almost midway between the hospital 
and the railroad depot. 

My terrible anxiety, suspense, and heavy responsi- 
bility was now at an end, but days and nights of nurs- 
ing lay before all who were connected with either the 
Buckner or Bragg Hospitals. Additional buildings were 
at once seized and converted into wards for the recep- 
tion of the wounded of both armies. The hospital 



152 MEMORIES. 

attendants, though weary, hungry, and some of them 
terribly dirty from the combined effect of perspiration, 
dust, and gunpowder, at once resumed their duties. 
The quartermaster reopened his office, requisitions were 
made and filled, and the work of the different depart- 
ments was once more put in regular operation. 

I was busy in one of the wards, when a messenger 
drove up, and a note was handed me from Dr. McAllis- 
ter, — " Some of our men too badly wounded to be moved 
right away. Come out at once. Bring cordials and 
brandy, — soup, if you have it, — also fill the enclosed 
requisition at the drug-store. Lose no time." 

The battle-field was not three miles away. I was 
soon tearing along the road at breakneck speed. At an 
improvised field-hospital I met the doctor, who vainly 
tried to prepare me for the horrid spectacle I was about 
to witness. 

From the hospital-tent distressing groans and screams 
came forth. The surgeons, both Confederate and Fed- 
eral, were busy, with coats off, sleeves rolled up, shirt- 
fronts and hands bloody. But our work lay not 
here. 

Dr. McAllister silently handed me two canteens of 
water, which I threw over my shoulder, receiving also 
a bottle of peach brandy. We then turned into a 
ploughed field, thickly strewn with men and horses, 
many stone dead, some struggling in the agonies of 
death. The plaintive cries and awful struggles of the 
horses first impressed me. They were shot in every 
conceivable manner, showing shattered heads, broken 
and bleeding limbs, and protruding entrails. They 
would not yield quietly to death, but continually raised 
their heads or struggled half-way to their feet, uttering 
cries of pain, while their distorted eyes seemed to reveal 
their suffering and implore relief. I saw a soldier shoot 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 153 

one of these poor animals, and felt truly glad to know 
that his agony was at an end. 

The dead lay around us on every side, singly and in 
groups and piles; men and horses, in some cases, ap- 
parently inextricably mingled. Some lay as if peace- 
fully sleeping ; others, with open eyes, seemed to glare 
at any who bent above them. Two men lay as they 
had died, the " Blue" and the " G-ray," clasped in a fierce 
embrace. What had passed between them could never 
be known ; but one was shot in the head, the throat of 
the other was partly torn away. It was awful to feel 
the conviction that unquenched hatred had embittered 
the last moments of each. They seemed mere youths, 
and I thought sadly of the mothers, whose hearts would 
throb with equal anguish in a Northern and a Southern 
home. In a corner of the field, supported by a pile of 
broken fence-rails, a soldier sat apparently beckoning to 
us. On approaching him we discovered that he was 
quite dead, although he sat upright, with open eyes and 
extended arm. 

Several badly wounded men had been laid under the 
shade of some bushes a little farther on ; our mission 
la}^ here. The portion of the field we crossed to reach 
this spot was in many places slippery with blood. The 
edge of my dress was red, my feet were wet with it. As 
we drew near the suffering men, piteous glances met our 
own. "Water! water!" was the cry. 

Dr. McAllister had previously discovered in one of 
these the son of an old friend, and although he was ap- 
parently wounded unto death, he hoped, when the am- 
bulances returned with the stretchers sent for, to move 
him into town to the hospital. He now proceeded with 
the aid of the instruments, bandages, lint, etc., I had 
brought to prepare him for removal. Meantime, taking 
from my pocket a small feeding-cup, which I always 



154 MEMORIES. 

carried for use in the wards, I mixed some brandy and 
water, and, kneeling by one of the poor fellows who 
seemed worse than the others, tried to raise his head. 
But he was already dying. As soon as he was moved 
the blood ran in a little stream from his mouth. Wip- 
ing it off, I put the cup to his lips, but he could not 
swallow, and reluctantly I left him to die. He wore 
the blue uniform and stripes of a Federal sergeant of 
cavalry, and had a German face. The next seemed 
anxious for water, and drank eagerly. This one, a man 
of middle age, was later transferred to our wards, but 
died from blood-poisoning. He was badly wounded in 
the side. A third could only talk with his large, sad 
eyes, but made me clearly understand his desire for 
water. As I passed my arm under his head the red 
blood saturated my sleeve and spread in a moment over 
a part of my dress. So we went on, giving water, brandy? 
or soup; sometimes successful in reviving the patient, 
sometimes able only to whisper a few words of comfort 
to the dying. There were many more left, and Dr. 
McAllister never for a moment intermitted his efforts to 
save them. Later came more help, surgeons, and at- 
tendants with stretchers, etc. Soon all were moved who 
could bear it. 

Duty now recalled me to my patients at the hos- 
pital. 

My hands and dress and feet were bloody, and I felt 
sick with horror. 

As I was recrossing the battle-field accompanied by 
Dr. Welford, of Virginia, the same terrible scenes were 
presented to the view. The ground was littered with 
the accoutrements of soldiers, — carbines, pistols, can- 
teens, haversacks, etc. Two cannon lay overturned, 
near one of which lay a dead Federal soldier still grasp- 
ing the rammer. Beneath the still struggling horses lay 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 155 

human forms just as they had fallen. Probably they had 
been dead ere they reached the ground, but I felt a shud- 
dering dread lest perhaps some lingering spark of life had 
been crushed out by the rolling animals. 

We had nearly reached the road when our attention 
was arrested by stifled cries and groans proceeding from 
a little log cabin which had been nearly demolished dur- 
ing the fight. Entering, we found it empty, but still the 
piteous cries continued. Soon the doctor discovered a 
pair of human legs hanging down the chimney, but with 
all his pulling could not dislodge the man, who was fast 
wedged and only cried out the louder. 

" Stop your infernal noise," said the doctor, " and try 
to help yourself while I pull." By this time others had 
entered the cabin, and their united effort at length suc- 
ceeded in dislodging from the chimney, — not a negro, but 
a white man, whose blue eyes, glassy with terror, shone 
through the soot which had begrimed his face. He had 
climbed up the chimney to escape the storm of shot, 
and had so wedged himself in that to release himself 
unaided was impossible. Irrepressible laughter greeted 
his appearance, and I — I am bitterly ashamed to say — fell 
into a fit of most violent hysterical laughter and weep- 
ing. Dr. Welford hurried me into the buggy, which 
was. near at hand, and drove rapidly to town, refusing 
to stop at the hospital, landing me at my room, where 
some ladies who came from I know not where kindly 
helped me to bed. Under the influence of a sedative I 
soon fell into a deep sleep, awakening at daylight to find 
my own servant (who had returned with other negroes 
during the night) standing at my bedside. The surgeons 
had sent a little of the precious real coffee, of which there 
was only one sack left. Upon awakening, I was to be at 
once served with a cup. A warm bath followed. By 
six o'clock I was once more at the hospital, ready for 



156 MEMORIES. 

duty, after two days and nights, during which, it seemed 
to me, I had lived for years. 

Even at this early hour, Buckner hospital presented a 
scene of great activity. Some of the surgeons had re- 
mained all night on duty, and were still busy; while 
others, having snatched a few hours of sleep, were now 
preparing for their trying work. 

In almost every ward lay a few wounded Federals, 
but, all the spare beds having been filled, a long, low, 
brick building, on the corner opposite the drug-store, 
once used as a cotton-pickery, was fitted up as comfort- 
ably as the limited hospital-supplies at our command 
would allow for the Federals exclusively, and they were 
permitted to have the attendance of their own surgeons, 
although ours always responded readily, if needed. 

These Federal surgeons appeared to me to be very 
indifferent to the comfort of their patients, and to avoid 
all unnecessary trouble. They were tardy in beginning 
their work the morning after the battle, and, when 
they were ready, coolly sent in requisitions for chloro- 
form, which, having been (contrary to the dictates of 
humanity and to the customs of civilized nations) long 
since declared by their government "contraband of 
war," was almost unattainable, and used by our Con- 
federate surgeons only in extreme cases. In all minor, 
and in some severe, operations the surgeons relied upon 
the manly fortitude of the patients, and, God bless our 
brave boys, they bore this cruel test with a courage fully 
as worthy to be recorded as the most brilliant action on 
the battle-field. 

On the morning in question, as I made my early 
rounds, there met me everywhere ghastly reminders 
of the battle, — men shot and disfigured in every con- 
ceivable manner. Many, fresh from the hands of the 
surgeons, exhausted by suffering, looked as if already 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 157 

Death had claimed them for his own. Attendants were 
constantly bearing into different wards fresh victims 
from the operating-rooms, where the bloody work 
would still go on for hours. These must have imme- 
diate attention, — must be closely watched and strongly 
nourished. This was my blessed privilege ; and, thanks 
to the humane and excellent policy adopted by G'eneral 
Johnston, and continued by G-eneral Hood, — both of 
whom looked well to the ways of quartermasters and 
commissaries, — the means to provide for the sick and 
wounded were always at hand, — at least, up to the time 
of which I write. 

Some of my favorite patients, whom, previous to this 
battle, I had nursed into convalescence, w^ere now 
thrown back upon beds of pain. In one corner I found 
a boy whom I had nursed and fed through days and 
nights of suffering from typhoid fever. His name was 

Willie Hutson, and he belonged to the Mississippi 

Regiment. Two days ago he had been as bright as a 
lark, and pleading to be sent to the front. 'Now he 
lay, shot through the breast, so near death that he did 
not know me. As I bent over him with tearful eyes, a 
hand placed upon my arm caused me to turn. There 
stood Dr. Gore, his kind face full of sympathy, but 
greatly troubled, at his side a Federal surgeon in full 
uniform. Dr. Gore said, " This is one of my old chums, 

and " But I cried out, "Oh, doctor! I cannot, — 

look" (indicating with my hand first Willie, then the 
entire ward) ! Passing swiftly out, I fled to my office 
and locked myself in, shedding hot tears of indignation. 
The dreadful work of the invaders had been before my 
eyes all the morning. I felt as if I could have nothing 
to do with them, and did not wish to see one of them 
again. They had not only murdered my poor boy 
Willie, but dozens of dearer friends. They were even 

14 



158 MEMORIES. 

now running riot in the home I loved. They were in- 
vaders I 

I could not meet them, — could not nurse them. 

It is painful thus to reveal the thoughts of my wicked, 
unchristian heart; but thus I reasoned and felt just 
then. 

After a while a note from Dr. Gore was handed me. 
He said (in substance), " I know how bitterly you feel, 
but pray for strength to cast out evil spirits from your 
heart. Forget that the suffering men, thrown upon 
our kindness and forbearance, are Yankees. Kemember 
only that they are Grod's creatures and helpless prisoners. 
They need you. Think the matter over, and do not 
disappoint me. Gore." 

I do not believe that ever before or since have I fought 
so hard a battle. God helping me, I decided to do right. 
The short, sharp contest ended — I acted at once. 

On my way to the Federal wards, I met more than 
one hospital-attendant carrying off a bloody leg or arm 
to bury it. I felt then, and saw no reason to alter my 
opinion afterwards, that some of their surgeons were far 
rougher and less merciful than ours ; and I do not be- 
lieve they ever gave the poor, shattered fellows the 
benefit of a doubt. It was easier to amputate than to 
attend a tedious, troublesome recovery. So, off went 
legs and arms by the wholesale. 

I had not been five minutes in the low, brick ward, 
where lay the most dangerously wounded Federals, 
when all animosity vanished and my woman's heart 
melted within me. 

These were strangers and unwelcome, but far from 
home and friends, suffering, dying. The surgeon said 
to me, " Madam, one-half the attention you give to your 
own men will save life here." 

The patients were all badly, many fatally, wounded. 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 159 

They were silent, repellent, and evidently expectant of 
insult and abuse, but after a while received food and 
drink from my hands pleasantly, and I tried to be faith- 
ful in my ministrations. 

I believe that most of the soldiers in this ward were 
from Iowa and Indiana. 

One I remember particularly, a captain of cavalry, 
who was shot through the throat and had to receive 
nourishment by means of a rubber tube inserted for the 
purpose. A young man in a blue and yellow uniform— 
an aide or orderly— remained at his side day and night 
until he died. His eyes spoke to me eloquently of his 
gratitude, and once he wrote on a scrap of paper, 
" God bless you," and handed it to me. He lived about 

five days. 

The mortality was very considerable in this ward. I 
grew to feel a deep interest in the poor fellows, and 
treasured last words or little mementoes as faithfully 
for their distant loved ones as I had always done for 
Confederates. 

Among the personal belongings taken from me by 
raiders at Macon, Georgia, was a large chest, full of 
articles of this kind, which I intended to return to the 
friends of the owners whenever the opportunity offered. 

In another ward were several renegade Kentuckians, 
who constantly excited my ire by noting and ridiculing 
deficiencies, calling my own dear boys " Old Jeff's raga- 
muffins," etc. One day Dr. Gore happened to be visit- 
ing this ward when these men began their usual teasing. 
Something caused me to eulogize Dr. Gore and all the 
Kentuckians who had sacrificed so much for "The 
Cause." One of these fellows then said, " Well, I'm a 
Kentuckian too, what have you got to say about meT 
I replied, " 1 think you hold about the same relation to 
the true sons of Kentucky that Judas Iscariot bore to 



160 MEMORIES. 

the beloved disciple who lay upon the bosom of- our 
Saviour." Then walked out of the ward. 

It was rather a spiteful repartee, I must confess, but 
was provoked by many ill-natured remarks previously 
made by this renegade, and had the good effect of put- 
ting an end to them. 

We were comparatively safe once more, — for how long 
no one knew. I now became very anxious about the 
men in the trenches at Atlanta who were lying day after 
day, always under fire. Suffering from insufficient food, 
exposed to the scorching sun or equally pitiless rain, 
sometimes actually knee-deej) in water for days. Tha 
bombardment was heavy and incessant, ceasing only for 
a while at sunset, when carts were hastily loaded with 
musty meat and poor corn-bread, driven out to the 
trenches, and the rations dumped there. Many of my 
friends were lying in these trenches, among them my 
husband. In addition to other ills, the defenders of 
Atlanta were in instant danger of death from shot or 
shell. I could not bear it. The desire to see my husband 
once more, and to carry some relief in the shape of pro- 
visions to himself and his comrades could not be quelled. 
Many things stood in the way of its accomplishment, for, 
upon giving a hint of my project to my friends at New- 
nan, a storm of protest broke upon my devoted head. 
Not one bade me God-speed, everybody declared I was 
crazy. " A woman to go to Atlanta under such circum- 
stances ; how utterly absurd, how mad." So I was obliged 
to resort to deception and subterfuge. My first step was 
to request leave of absence, that I might forage for pro- 
visions to be sent to the front by the first opportunity. 

Dr. McAllister very kindly accorded me his per- 
mission, placing at my disposal an ambulance and a 
driver, advising me, however, not to follow the main 
road or the beaten track which had already been drained 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 161 

by foragers, but to go deep into the piny woods. Said 
he, "Only one of our foragers has ever been through 
that region, and his reports were not very encouraging. 
The people want to keep all they have got for home- 
consumption, and greatly distrust ' hospital people,' but 
if success is possible, you will succeed." In anticipa- 
tion, this ride into deep, odorous pine woods seemed de- 
lightful. When the ambulance with its "captured" 
mule drove up before my door, I gayly climbed into it, 
and, waving merry adieux to half-disapproving friends 
(among them Dr. Hughes, with his distressed face, and 
Diogenes, who looked daggers at me), set off in high 
glee. The ride along the pleasant road was lovely; 
early birds sung sweetly ] the dew, yet undisturbed, 
glistened everywhere, the morning breeze blew freshly 
in my face. As the sun began to assert his power, I 
became eager to penetrate into the shady woods, and 
at last, spying a grand aisle in " JS'ature's temple," bade 
the driver enter it. For a while the result was most 
enjoyable. The spicy aroma of the pines, the brilliant 
vines climbing everywhere, the multitude of woodland 
blossoms blooming in such quantities and variety as I 
had never imagined, charmed my senses, and elevated 
my spirit. Among these peaceful shades one might 
almost forget the horror and carnage which desolated 
the land. The driver was versed in wood-craft, and 
called my attention to many beauties which would have 
otherwise escaped me. But soon his whole attention 
was required to guide the restive mule through a laby- 
rinth of stumps and ruts and horrible muddy holes, 
which he called " hog wallows ;" my own endeavors were 
addressed to " holding on," and devising means to ease 
the horrible joltings which racked me from head to foot. 
After riding about two miles we came to a small clear- 
ing, and were informed that the road for ten miles was 
I 14* 



162 MEMORIES. 

" tolerbal clar" and pretty thickly settled. So after par- 
taking of an early country dinner, also obtaining a small 
amount of eggs, chickens, etc., at exorbitant prices, we 
resumed our ride. That expedition will never be for- 
gotten by me. At its close, I felt that my powers of 
diplomacy were quite equal to any emergency. Oh, the 
sullen, sour-looking women that I sweetly smiled upon, 
and flattered into good humor, praising their homes, the 
cloth upon the loom, the truck-patch (often a mass of 
weeds), the tow-headed babies (whom I caressed and 
admired), never hinting at my object until the inno- 
cent victims offered of their own accord to " show me 
round." At the spring-house I praised the new country 
butter, which " looked so very good that I must have 
a pound or two," and then skilfully leading the conver- 
sation to the subject of chickens and eggs, carelessly 
displaying a few crisp Confederate bills, I at least be- 
came the happy possessor of a few dozens of eggs and 
a chicken or two, at a price which only their destination 
reconciled me to. 

At one house, approached by a road so tortuous 
and full of stumps that we were some time before 
reaching it, I distinctly heard a dreadful squawking 
among the fowls, but when we arrived at the gate, 
not one was to be seen, and the mistress declared she 
hadn't a " one : hadn't saw a chicken for a coon's age." 
Pleading excessive fatigue, I begged the privilege of 
resting within the cabin. An apparently unwilling 
assent was given. In I walked, and, occupying one of 
those splint chairs which so irresistibly invite one to 
commit a breach of good manners by " tipping back," I 
sat in the door-way, comfortably swaying backward 
and forward. Ever}^ once in a while the faces of chil- 
dren, either black or white, would peer at me round 
the corner of the house, then the sound of scampering 



I 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA, 163 

bare feet would betray their sudden flight. Suddenly 
I caught sight of a pair of bare, black feet protruding 
from under the bed. Presently an unmistakable squawk 
arose, instantly smothered, but followed by a fluttering 
of wings and a chorus of squawks. So upset was the 
lady of the house that she involuntarily called out, 
"Ybw Isrul!'' "Ma'am," came in a frightened voice 
from under the bed, then in whining tones, " I dun try 
to mek 'em hush up, but 'pears like Mass Debbel be on 
dey side, anyhow." 

Further concealment being impossible, I said, " Come, 
you have the chickens ready caught, I'll give you your 
own price for them." She hesitated — and was lost, for 
producing from my pocket a small package of snufl^, to 
which temptation she at once succumbed, I obtained in 
exchange six flne, fat chickens. As I was leaving she 
said, in an apologetic tone, "Well, I declah, I never 
knowed you was going to light, or I wouldn't have 
done sich a fool-trick." 

Stopping at every house, meeting with varied success, 
we at last, just at night, arrived at a farm-house more 
orderly than any we had passed, where I was glad to 
discover the familiar face of an old lady who had some- 
times brought buttermilk and eggs to the sick. At once 
recognizing me, she appeared delighted, and insisted 
upon my " lighting" and having my team put up until 
morning. This I was glad to do, for it was quite out 
of the question to start on my homeward journey that 
night. Greatly I enjoyed the hospitality so ungrudg- 
ingly given, the appetizing supper, the state bed in the 
best room, with its " sunrise" quilt of patch-work. Here 
was a Confederate household. The son was a soldier. 
His wife and his little children were living " with ma" 
at the old homestead. The evening was spent in talk- 
ing of the late battle. Here these women were, living 



164 MEMORIES. 

in the depths of the woods, consumed with anxiety, 
seldom hearing any news, yet quietly performing the 
monotonous round of duty with a patience which would 
have added lustre to the crown of a saint. 

I talked until (wonderful to relate) my tongue was 
tired: my audience being the old, white-haired father, 
the mother, the wife, and the eager children, who were 
shy at first, but by degrees nestled closer, with bright 
eyes from which sleep seemed banished forever. 

The next morning when, after a substantial breakfast, 
I was once more ready to start, every member of the 
family made some addition to my stores, notably, a few 
pounds of really good country butter. This was always 
highly prized by the soldiers. As a general thing, when 
the cows were fed upon cotton-seed the butter was white 
and " waxy," this was yellow and firm. The oldest girl 
brought me a pair of socks she had herself knitted; one 
of the little boys, six eggs laid by his own " dominiker," 
which he pointed out to me as she stalked about the 
yard proud of her mottled feathers and rosy comb. 

Even the baby came toddling to the door saying, "Heah, 
heah," and holding out a snowy little kitten. The old 
gentleman, mounting his horse, offered to "ride a piece" 
with us. Thanks to his representations to the neigh- 
bors, I was able in a short time to turn my face home- 
wards, having gathered an excellent supply of chickens, 
eggs, hams, home-made cordials, peach and apple brandy, 
and a few pairs of socks. The old farmer also showed us a 
way by which we could avoid a repetition of the tortures 
of yesterday, and rode beside the ambulance to the main 
road. I remember well how he looked, as he sat upon 
his old white mule, waiting to see the last of us. His 
hat, pushed back, showed a few locks of silvery hair; his 
coarse clothes and heavy, home-made boots were worn 
in a manner that betrayed the Southern gentleman. 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 165 

The parting smile, still lingering upon his kindly face, 
could not conceal the "furrows of care," which had 
deepened with every year of the war. But, alas! I 
cannot recall his name, although I then thought I could 
never forget it. 

Upon arriving at Xewnan, I lost no time in preparing 
my boxes for the front. Everything was cooked ; even 
the eggs were hard-boiled. There was sufficient to fill 
two large boxes. Having packed and shipped to the 
depot my treasures, I prepared for the final step with- 
out hesitation, although not without some doubt as to 
success in eluding the vigilance of my friends. An- 
nouncing my determination to see the boxes off, I — ac- 
companied by my maid — walked down to the depot just 
before train-time. There was only one rickety old pas- 
senger-car attached to the train. This, as well as a long 
succession of box- and cattle-cars, were crowded with 
troops, — reinforcements to Atlanta. Taking advantage 
of the crowd, I, with Tempe, quietly stepped on board, 
escaping discovery until just as the train was leav- 
ing, when in rushed Dr. McAllister, who peremptorily 
ordered me off; but, being compelled to jump off himself, 
failed to arrest my departure. I was in high spirits. 
On the train were many soldiers whom I had nursed, 
and who cared for my comfort in every way possible 
under the circumstances. I was the only lady on the 
train, so they were thoughtful enough to stow them- 
selves in the crowded boxes behind, that I might not 
be embarrassed by a large number in the passenger- 
car. At last, as we approached Atlanta, I heard the 
continuous and terrific noise of the bombardment. The 
whistle of the engine was a signal to the enemy, who at 
once began to shell the depot. I did not realize the 
danger yet, but just as the train " slowed up" heard a 
shrieking sound, and saw the soldiers begin to dodge. 



166 MEMORIES. 

Before I could think twice, an awful explosion followed ; 
the windows were all shivered, and the earth seemed to 
me to be thrown in cart-loads into the car. Tempe 
screamed loudly, and then began to pray. I was par- 
alyzed with extreme terror, and could not scream. Be- 
fore I could speak, another shell exploded overhead, 
tearing off the corner of a brick store, causing again 
a deafening racket. As we glided into the station, I 
felt safer; but soon found out that every one around 
me had business to attend to, and that I must rely 
upon myself. 

The shells still shrieked and exploded ; the more 
treacherous and dangerous solid shot continually de- 
molished objects within our sight. For a few hours I 
was so utterly demoralized that my only thought was 
how to escape. It seemed to me impossible that any 
body of soldiers could voluntarily expose themselves 
to such horrible danger. I thought if I had been a 
soldier I must have deserted from my first battle-field. 
But at last I grew calmer; my courage returned, and, 
urged by the necessity of finding shelter, I ventured 
out. iSTot a place could I find. The houses were closed 
and deserted, in many cases partly demolished by shot 
or shell, or, having taken fire, charred, smoking, and 
burnt to the ground. 

All day frightened women and children cowered and 
trembled and hungered and thirsted in their under- 
ground places of refuge while the earth above them 
shook with constant explosions. After a while I grew 
quite bold, and decided to stow myself and my boxes 
in the lower part of a house not far from the depot. 
The upper story had been torn off by shells. I could 
look through large holes in the ceiling up to the blue 
sky. The next move was to find means of notifying my 
husband and his friends of my arrival. I crept along 



167 

the streets back to the depot, Tempe creeping by my 
side, holding fast to my dress. Then I found an officer 
just going out to the trenches, and sent by him a pen- 
cilled note to Lieutenant Cluverius, thinking an officer 
would be likely to receive a communication, when a 
private might not. Soon after sunset, my husband 
joined me, and soon after many friends. They were all 
ragged, mud-stained, and altogether unlovely, but seemed 
to me most desirable and welcome visitors. 

One of my boxes being opened, I proceeded to do the 
honors. My guests having eaten very heartily, filled 
their haversacks, and, putting " a sup'' in their canteens, 
returned to camp to send out a fresh squad. The next 
that came brought in extra haversacks and canteens 
" for some of the boys who couldn't get off," and these 
also were provided for. 

With the last squad my husband was compelled to go 
baclv to camp, as just then military rules were severe, 
and very strictly enforced. I passed the night in an 
old, broken arm-chair, Tempe lying at my feet, and 
slept so soundly that I heard not a sound of shot or 
shell. Yery early next morning, however, we were 
awakened by a terrible explosion near us, and directly 
afterwards heard that within a hundred yards of our 
place of refuge a shell had exploded, tearing away the 
upper part of a house, killing a man and his three 
children, who were sleeping in one of the rooms. This 
made me very uneasy, and increased Tempe's terror to 
such an extent that she became almost unmanageable. 
During the next day I actually became accustomed to 
the noise and danger, and " with a heart for any fate" 
passed the day. At night my levee was larger than 
before ; among them I had the satisfaction of seeing 
and supplying some Alabama, South Carolina, and 
Tennessee soldiers. That night the bombardment was 



168 MEMORIES. 

terrific. Anxiety for my husband, combined with a 
shuddering terror, made sleep impossible. 

The next morning, my husband having obtained a 
few hours' leave of absence, joined me in my shat- 
tered retreat. The day was darkened by the agony 
of parting. It seemed to me impossible to leave him 
under such circumstances, and really required more 
courage than to face the shot and shell. But I could 
easily see that anxiety for me interfered with his duty 
as a soldier, so — we must part. On the same evening 
I returned to J^ewnan, where my friends were so over- 
joyed at my safe return that they forbore to upbraid. 
Soon afterward the battle of Jonesboro' again filled our 
wards with shattered wrecks. As I have already stated, 
my husband then came for the first time to claim my 
care. Before he was quite able to return to duty, the 
post was ordered to Fort Valley, Georgia, a pleasant 
and very hospitable town, where new and excellent 
hospital buildings had been erected. From here Mr. 
Beers returned to his command. The day of his de- 
parture was marked by hours of intense anguish which 
I yet shudder to recall. The train which stopped at 
the hospital camp to take up men returning to the 
front was crowded with soldiers, — reinforcements. I 
had scarcely recovered from the fit of bitter weeping 
which followed the parting, when, noticing an un- 
usual commotion outside, I went to the door to dis- 
cover the cause. Men were running up the railroad 
track in the direction taken by the train which had 
just left. A crowd had collected near the surgeon's 
oflSce, in the midst of which stood an almost breathless 
messenger. His tidings seemed to have the eff'ect of 
sending off* succeeding groups of men in the direction 
taken by those I had first seen running up the road. 
Among them I discovered several surgeons. Something 



NEWNAN, GEORGIA. 169 

was wrong. Wild with apprehension, I sped over to 
the office, and there learned that the train of cars loaded 
and crowded with soldiers had been thrown down a 
steep embankment, about three miles up the road, and 
that many lives were lost. Waiting for nothing, I ran 
bareheaded and frantic up the track, for more than a 
mile never stopping, then hearing the slow approach 
of an engine, sunk down by the side of the track to 
await its coming. Soon the engine appeared, drawing 
very slowly a few platform- and baggage-cars loaded 
with groaning, shrieking men, carrying, also, many 
silent forms which would never again feel pain or sor- 
row. The surgeons upon the first car upon descrying 
me crouching by the roadside, halted the train and 
lifted me upon the last car, where, among the " slightly 
hurt," I found my husband, terribly bruised and shaken, 
but in no danger. Arrived at camp, where tents had 
been hastily pitched, the wounded and dying were laid 
out side by side in some of the largest, while others re- 
ceived the dead. The sights and sounds were awful in 
the extreme. At first I could not muster courage 
(shaken as I had been) to go among them. But it was 
necessary for purposes of identification, so I examined 
every one, dying and dead, feeling that certainty^ how- 
ever dreadful, might be better borne by loving hearts 
than prolonged suspense. 

Among these dreadful scenes came a minister of God, 
whose youthful face, pale and horror-stricken, yet all 
alight with heavenly pity and love, I can never forget. 
Tenderly he bent above these dying men, his trembling 
lips touched by divine inspiration, whispering words 
precious to parting souls. Unshrinkingly he performed 
his mission to those who yet lived, then, passing among 
the dead, lovingly composed and prepared for decent 
burial the mutilated bodies. One burial-service served 
H 15 



170 MEMORIES. 

for all ; this was as tenderly rendered as if each unfor- 
tunate had been dear to himself 

This young clergyman was Eev. Green, of 

Columbia, S. C, a near relative of the eminent divine 
and inspired patriot, Dr. B. M. Palmer, now of New 
Orleans. 

Few patients were sent to Fort Yalley. Upon recov- 
ering from the effects of the railroad accident, my hus- 
band again left for his command. G-rowing dissatisfied, 
I applied to Dr. Stout for a position nearer the front. 
Not receiving a satisfactory reply, went to Macon, 
where for a few weeks I remained at one of the hos- 
pitals, but still felt that I was losing time, and doing 
very little good. In November I was offered a position 
in a tent-hospital near the front, which I eagerly ac- 
cepted, little dreaming (God help me I) of the hardship 
and disappointment which awaited me. 



OHAPTEE YL 

OMEGA. 

The detention of the railroad-train belated us, and 
when we (I and my servant) were left at a small station 
in Mississippi, night had fallen. The light from a little 
fire of pine knots, built on the ground outside, while 
illuminating the rough depot and platform, left the 
country beyond in deeper darkness. It was bitterly 
cold. The driver of the ambulance informed me, we 
had "quite a piece to ride yet." A moment later, 
Dr. Beatty rode up on horseback, welcomed me pleas- 
antly, waiting to see me safely stowed away in the am- 
bulance. The ride to camp was dismal. I continued 
to shiver with cold; my heart grew heavy as lead, 
and yearned sadly for a sight of the pleasant faces, 
the sound of the kindly voices, to which I had been so 
long accustomed. At last a turn in the road brought 
us in sight of the numberless fires of a large camp. It 
was a bright scene, though far from gay. The few men 
who crouched by the fires were not roistering, rollick- 
ing soldiers, but pale shadows, holding their thin hands 
over the blaze which scorched their faces, while their 
thinly-covered backs were exposed to a cold so intense 
that it congealed the sap in the farthest end of the log 
on which they sat. Driving in among these, up an 
"avenue" bordered on either side by rows of white 
tents, the ambulance drew up at last before the door of 
my " quarters," — a rough cabin built of logs. Through 
the open door streamed the cheery light of a wood-fire, 
upon which pine knots had been freshly thrown. 

171 



172 MEMORIES. 

A bunk at one side, made of puncheons, and filled with 
pine straw, over which comforts and army-blankets had 
been thrown, hard pillows stuffed with straw, having 
coarse, unbleached cases, a roughly-made table before 
the fire, a lot of boxes marked " Q. M.," etc., to serve as 
seats, and you have my cabin in its entirety. 

Drawing my box up close to the fire, I sat down, 
Tempe, in the mean while, stirring the coals and ar- 
ranging the burning ends of the pine in true country 
style. 

Presently my supper was brought in, — corn-bread, 
corn meal coffee, a piece of musty fried salt meat, 
heavy brown sugar, and no milk. I was, however, 
hungry, and ate with a relish. Tempe went off to 
some region unknown for the supper, returning un- 
satisfied and highly disgusted with the " hog-wittles" 
which had been offered to her. Soon Dr. Beatty called, 

bringing with him Mrs. Dr. , a cheery little body, 

who, with her husband, occupied a room under the 
same roof as myself, a sort of hall open at both ends 
dividing us. 

We had some conversation regarding the number of 
sick and the provisions for their comfort. On the 
whole, the evening passed more cheerfully than I had 
expected. My sleep that night was dreamless. I did 
not even feel the cold, although Tempe declared she 
was "dun froze stiff." 

Yery early I was astir, gazing from the door of my 
cabin at my new sphere of labor. 

Snow had fallen during the night, and still came 
down steadily. The path was hidden, the camp-fires 
appeared as through a mist. A confused, steady sound 
of chopping echoed through the woods. I heard mys- 
terious words, dimly saw figures moving about the fires. 
Everything looked unpromising, — dismal. Chilled to 



OMEGA. 173 

the heart, I turned back to my only comfort, the splen- 
did fire Tempe had built. My breakfast was exactly as 
supper had been, and was brought by the cook, a de- 
tailed soldier, who looked as if he ought to have been 
at the front. He apologized for the scanty rations, 
promising some beef for dinner. 

Soon Dr. Beatty, accompanied by two assistant-sur- 
geons, appeared to escort me to the tents. I went 
gladly, for I was anxious to begin my work. What I 
saw during that hour of inspection convinced me, not 
only that my services were needed, but that my work 
must be begun and carried on under almost insur- 
mountable difficulties and disadvantages. I found no 
comforts, no hospital stores, insufficient nourishment, a 
scarcity of blankets and comforts, even of pillows. Of 
the small number of the latter few had cases; all were 
soiled. The sick men had spit over them and the bed- 
clothes, which could not be changed because there were 
no more. As I have said, there were no comforts. The 
patients looked as if they did not expect any, and 
seemed sullen and discontented. The tents were not 
new, nor were they all good. They seemed to me with- 
out number. Passing in and out among them, I felt 
bewildered and doubtful whether I should ever learn to 
know one from another, or to find my patients. Part 
of the camp was set apart for convalescents. Here 
were dozens of Irishmen. They were so maimed and 
shattered that every one should have been entitled to a 
discharge, but the poor fellows had no homes to go to, 
and were quite unable to provide for themselves. There 
were the remnants of companies, regiments, and bri- 
gades, many of them Louisianians, and from other 
States outside the Confederate lines. Had there been 
any fighting to do, they would still have "taken a 
hand," maimed as they were. The monotony of hos- 

15* 



174 MEMORIES. 

pital camp-life made them restless ; the rules they found 
irksome, and constantly evaded; they growled, com- 
plained, were always " in hot water," and almost un- 
manageable. 

The first time I passed among them they eyed me 
askance, seeming, I feared, to resent the presence of 
a woman. But I made it my daily custom to visit their 
part of the camp, standing by their camp-fires to listen 
to their "yarns," or to relate some of my own experi- 
ences, trying to make their hardships seem less, listening 
to their complaints, meaning in earnest to speak to Dr. 
Beatty regarding palpable wrongs. This I did not fail 
to do, and whenever the doctor's sense of justice was 
aroused, he promptly acted on the right side. I do not 
wish to convey to my readers the idea that there were 
men always sullen and disagreeable. Far from it, they 
were a jolly set of men when in a good humor, and, like 
all Irishmen, full of wit and humor. After I became 
known to them their gentle, courteous treatment of me 
never varied. They were very fond of playing cards, 
but whenever I appeared upon one of the avenues, 
every card would disappear. JS'ot one ever failed to 
salute me, often adding a "God bless you, ma'am, may 
the heavens be your bed," etc. Disliking to interfere 
with their only amusement, I let them know that I did 
not dislike to see them playing cards. At this they 
were very pleased, saying, " Sure, it's no harrum ; it's 
not gambling we are; divil a cint have we to win or 
lose." One day I stopped to look on a moment at a game 
of euchre. One of the players had lost an arm (close to 
the shoulder). Said he, " Sure, ma'am, it's bating the 
b'ys intirely, I am." I did not understand, so he ex- 
plained, with a comic leer at the others, — " Sure, haven't 
I always the Hone hand' on thim ?" At once I recalled a 
similar remark made by an Irish soldier lying in the 



OMEGA. 175 

hospital at Newnan, who had just lost one of his legs ; 
when I condoled with him, he looked up brightly, and, 
pointing at his remaining foot, explained, " Niver mind, 
this feller will go it alone and make it.'' 

Among the surgeons in camp was one who had highly 
offended these convalescents by retiring to his cabin, 
pulling the latch-string inside and remaining deaf to all 
calls and appeals from outside. Mutterings of discontent 
were heard for a while, but at last as there was no fur- 
ther mention of the matter, I believed it was ended. 

About this time the actions of the convalescents began 
to appear mysterious : they remained in their tents or 
absented themselves, as I supposed, upon foraging ex- 
peditions. Frequently, I found them working upon cow- 
horns, making ornaments as I thought (at this business 
Confederate soldiers were very expert). One day I 
caught sight of a large pile of horns and bones just 
brought in, but still thought nothing of it. Shortly, 
however, a small deputation from the convalescent camp 
appeared at the door of my cabin just as I was eating 
my dinner : all saluted ; the spokesman then explained 
that the " b'ys" were prepared to give the obnoxious 
surgeon a " siranade" that same night. They had been 
working for weeks to produce the instruments of torture 
which were then all ready. " We don't mane to scare 
ye, ma'am, and if it'll be displazin' to ye, sure we'll give 
it up." I told them that I did not want to know about 
it, and was sorry they had told me, but I would not be 
frightened at any noise I might hear in the night. " All 
right, ma'am," said the spokesman, winking at the others 
to show that he comprehended. The party then with- 
drew. About midnight such a startling racket suddenly 
broke the stillness that in spite of my previous knowl- 
edge, I was frightened. Horns of all grades of sound, 
from deep and hoarse to shrill, tin cups and pans clashed 



176 MEMORIES. 

together or beaten with bones, yells, whistling, and in 
short every conceivable and inconceivable noise. 

After the first blast, utter stillness ; the startled officers, 
meanwhile, listening to discover the source of the un- 
earthly noise, then, as if Bedlam had broken loose, the 
concert began once more. It was concentrated around 
the cabin of the surgeon so disliked. As the quarters 
of the officers were somewhat removed from the hospital 
proper, and very near my own, I got the full benefit of 
the noise. I cannot now say why the racket was not 
put a stop to. Perhaps because the serenaders numbered 
over one hundred and the surgeons despaired of restoring 
order. At all events, during the whole night we were 
allowed to sink into slumber, to be aroused again and 
again by the same hideous burst of sound. I only re- 
member that the next day the horns, etc., were collected 
and carried away from camp, while the offenders were 
refused permission to leave their quarters for a while. 

In the sick camp there lay over two hundred sick and 
wounded men, faithfully attended and prescribed for by 
the physicians, but lacking every comfort. Dr. Beatty 
was worried about the sick, but under the circumstances 
what could he do? Soon after occurred the terrible 
battle of Franklin, when our tents were again filled 
with wounded men. These men were unlike any I have 
ever nursed. Their shattered forms sufficiently attested 
courage and devotion to duty, but the enthusiasm and 
pride which had hitherto seemed to me so grand and 
noble when lighting up the tortured faces of wounded 
soldiers, appearing like a reflection of great glory, I now 
missed. It seemed as if they were yet revengeful and 
unsatisfied ; their countenances not yet relaxed from th^ 
tension of the fierce struggle, their eyes "yet gleaming 
with the fires of battle. The tales they told made me 
shudder : Of men, maddened by the horrible butchery 



OMEGA. 177 

going on around them, mounting the horrible barricade 
(trampling out in many instances the little sparks of life 
which might have been rekindled), only to add their own 
bodies to the horrid pile, and to be trampled in their 
turn by comrades who sought to avenge them ; of 
soldiers on both sides, grappling hand to hand, tearing 
open each other's wound, drenched with each other's 
blood, dying locked in a fierce embrace. It turns me 
sick even now when I remember the terrible thino-s I 
then heard, the awful wounds I then saw. During the 
whole period of my service, I never had a harder task 
than when striving to pour oil upon these troubled 
waters, to soothe and reconcile these men who talked 
incessantly of " sacrifice" and useless butchery. This 
was particularly the case with General Clebourne's men, 
who so loved their gallant leader that, at his death, 
revenge had almost replaced patriotism in their hearts. 

I do not consider myself competent, nor do I wish to 
criticise the generals who led our armies and who, since 
the war, have, with few exceptions, labored assiduously 
to throw the blame of failure upon each other. I have 
read their books with feelings of intense sorrow and 
regret, — looking for a reproduction of the glories of the 
past, — finding whole pages of recrimination and full of 
" all uncharitableness." For my own part, I retain an 
unchanged, unchangeable respect and reverence for all 
alike, believing each to have been a pure and honest patriot, 
who, try as he might, could not surmount the difficulties 
which each one in turn encountered, 

A brave, vindictive foe, whose superiority in numbers, 
in arms, and equipment, and, more than all, rations, they 
could maintain indefinitely. And to oppose them, an 
utterly inadequate force, whose bravery and unparal- 
leled endurance held out to the end, although hunger 
gnawed at their vitals, disease and death daily decimated 



178 MEMORIES. 

their ranks, intense anxiety for dear ones exposed to 
dangers, privations, all the horrors which everywhere 
attended the presence of tiie invaders, torturing them 
every hour. 

While yielding to none in my appreciation of the 
gallant General Hood, there is one page in his book 
which always arouses my indignation and which I can 
never reconcile with what I know of the history of the 
Arm}^ of Tennessee, from the time General Hood took 
command to the surrender. Truly, they were far from 
being like " dumb driven cattle," for every man was " a 
hero in the strife." It seems to me that the memory of 
the battle of Franklin alone should have returned to 
General Hood to "give him pause" before he gave to 
the public the page referred to : 

(Extract.') 

'' My failure on the 20th and the 22d to bring about a 
general pitched battle arose from the unfortunate policy 
pursued from Dalton to Atlanta, and which had wrought 
'such' demoralization amid rank and file as to render 
the men unreliable in battle. I cannot give a more 
forcible, though homely, exemplification of the morale 
of the troops at that period than hy comparing the Army 
to a team which has been allowed to balk at every hill, 
one portion will make strenuous eff'orts to advance, 
whilst the other will refuse to move, and thus paralyze 
the exertions of the first. Moreover, it will work fault- 
lessly one day and stall the next. No reliance can be 
placed upon it at any stated time. Thus it was with 
the army when ordered into a general engagement, one 
corps strugged nobly, whilst the neighboring corps frus- 
trated its efforts by simple inactivity; and whilst the 
entire Army might fight desperately one day, it would 
fail in action the following day. Stewart's gallant attack 



OMEGA. 179 

on the 20th was neutralized by Hardee's inertness on the 
right J and the failure in the battle of the 22d is to be 
attributed also to the effect of the ' timid defensive' policy 
of this officer, who, although a brave and gallant soldier, 
neglected to obey orders, and swung away, totally in- 
dependent of the main body of the Army." 

Time softens and alleviates all troubles, and this was 
no exception. But the winter was a very gloomy one : 
my heart was constantly oppressed by witnessing suffer- 
ing I could not relieve, needs which could not be met. 
The efforts of the foragers, combined with my own pur- 
chases from country wagons (although Dr. Beatty was 
liberal in his orders, and I spent every cent I could get), 
were utterly insufficient, although the officers of this 
camp-hospital were self denying, and all luxuries were 
reserved for the sick. I hit upon an expedient to vary 
the rations a little, which found favor with the whole 
camp. The beef was simply atrocious. I had it cut 
into slices, let it lie in salt with a sprinkling of vinegar 
for a day, then hung the pieces up the chimneys until it 
was smoked. I first tried it in my own cabin, found it 
an improvement, and so had a quantity prepared for the 
hungry wounded. And so these dark days sped on, 
bringing, in due time, 

THE LAST CONFEDERATE CHRISTMAS. 

I will here subjoin an article originally written for the 
Southern Bivouac, which will give my readers an idea 
of how the Christmas-tide was spent. 

For some time previous I had been revolving in my 
mind various plans for the celebration of Christmas 
by making some addition to the diet of the sick and 
wounded soldiers then under my charge. But, plan as 
I would, the stubborn facts in the case rose up to con- 
front me, and I failed to see just how to accomplish my 



180 MEMORIES. 

wishes. We were then located at Lauderdale Springs, 
Mississippi. I, with my servant, Tempe, occupied one 
room of a small, double house, built of rough-hewn logs, 
and raised a few feet from the ground ; a sort of hall, 
open at both ends, separated my room from one on the 

opposite side occupied by Dr. and his wife. All 

around, as far as one could see, amid the white snow 
and with lofty pine-trees towering above them, ex- 
tended the hospital-tents, and in these lay the sick, the 
wounded, the dying. Hospital-supplies were scarce, 
our rations of the plainest articles, which, during the 
first years of the war, were considered absolute neces- 
saries, had become priceless luxuries. Eggs, butter, 
chickens came in such small quantities that they must 
be reserved for the very sick. The cheerfulness, self- 
denial, and fellow-feeling shown by those who were 
even partly convalescent, seemed to me to be scarcely 
less admirable than the bravery which had distin- 
guished them on the battle-field. But this is a digres- 
sion: let me hasten to relate how I was helped to a 
decision as to Christmas "goodies." One morning, 
going early to visit some wounded soldiers who had 
come in during the night, I found in one tent a new- 
comer, lying in one of the bunks, his head and face 
bandaged and bloody. By his side sat his comrade, — 
wounded also, but less severely, — trying to soften for 
the other some corn-bread, which he was soaking and 
beating with a stick in a tin cup of cold water. He 
explained that the soldier with the bandaged head had 
been shot in the mouth, and could take only soft food. 
I said, "Don't give him that. I will bring him some 
mush and milk, or some chicken soup." He set down 
the cup, looked at me with queer, half-shut eyes, then 
remarked, " Yer ga-assin' now, ain't ye ?" 

Having finally convinced him that I was not, I re- 



OMEGA. 181 

tired for a moment to send the nurse for some food. 
When it came, and while I was slowly putting spoon- 
fuls of broth into the poor, shattered mouth of his 
friend, he stood looking on complacently, though with 
his lip quivering. I said to him, " Now, what would 
you like ?" After a moment's hesitation he replied, 
" Well, lady, I've been sort of hankerin' after a sweet- 
potato pone, but I s'pose ye couldn't noways get that?" 
"There," thought I, "that's just what I will get and 
give them all for Christmas dinner." 

Hastening to interview the surgeon in charge, I easily 
obtained permission to go on the next day among the 
farmers to collect materials for my feast. An ambu- 
lance was placed at my disposal. 

My foraging expedition was tolerably successful, and 
I returned next evening with a quantity of sweet pota- 
toes, several dozen eggs, and some country butter. Driv- 
ing directly to the door of my cabin, I had my treasures 
securely placed within ; for, although holding my sol- 
dier-friends in high estimation, I agreed with the driver 
of the ambulance, — " Them 'taturs has to be taken in 
out of the cold." My neighbor's wife, Mrs. Dr. , en- 
tered heartily into my plans for the morrow, promising 
her assistance. My night-round of visits to the sick 
having been completed, I was soon seated by my own 
fireside, Avatching the operation of making and baking a 
corn hoecake, which, with some smoked beef of my own 
preparation and a cup of corn-coffee, made my supper on 
this Christmas eve. It was so bitterly cold that I did 
not undress; but, wrapping a blanket around me, lay 
down on my bunk. Tempe also rolled herself up, and 
lay down before the fire. In order to explain what fol- 
lowed, I must here say that the boards of my floor were 
only laid, not fastened, as nails were not to be had. I was 
awakened from " the first sweet sleep of night" by an un- 

16 



182 MEMORIES. 

earthly yell from Terape, who sprang unceremoniously 
upon my bunk, grasping me tightly, and crying, " O Lord, 
Miss , yearthquate dun cum !" Sitting up, I was hor- 
rified to see the boards of the floor rising and falling with 
a terrible noise. A moment later I realized the situation. 
A party of hogs had organized a raid, having for its ob- 
ject my precious potatoes. A sure-enough " yearthquate" 
would have been less appalling to me, as I have always 
been mortally afraid of hogs. Just then one of the in- 
vaders managed to knock aside a board and get his 
head in full view. I shivered with terror, but Tempe 
now grasped the state of the case, and, being " to the 
manner born," leaped forward to execute dire vengeance 
on the unfortunate hog. Seizing a burning stick from 
the fire, she rushed upon the intruder, who had gotten 
wedged so that advance or retreat was alike impossible. 
Her angry cries, and the piercing squeals of the hog, 
roused all in the vicinity. Help soon came, our ene- 
mies were routed, quiet was restored. My pones were a 
great success. All who were allowed by their surgeons 
partook of them. I had two immense pans full brought 
to ray cabin, where those who were able brought their 
plates and cups, receiving a generous quantity of the 
pone and a cup of sweet milk. 

But these struggles and hardships were nothing in 
comparison to what was now to befall us. The constant 
fighting and daily-increasing number of wounded at the 
front required the presence of experienced surgeons. 
After the battle of Franklin some of ours were sent 
up. In one or two instances those who replaced them 
were young and inexperienced. They were permitted 
to attend the convalescents and light cases. One morn- 
ing, I was aroused very early by a nurse who begged me 
to go to one of the convalescents who had been calling 
for me all night. 



OMEGA. 183 

Arrived at the tent, which at that hour was rather 
dark, I lifted the flap to enter, but was arrested by a 
piteous cry from the patient, who lay facing the entrance. 
" For God's sake keep out that light," said he, " it hurts 
my eyes." The nurse said, " It's masles he has, ma'am." 
So I concluded the pained eyes were not unusual. 

Approaching the bunk, and taking the patient's hand, 
I found he had a raging fever. But when I placed my 
hand upon his forehead, and felt the dreadful pustules 
thickly covering it, my heart almost ceased to beat. An 
unreasoning terror overpowered me ; my impulse was to 
flee at once from that infected tent. But I must not 
give any alarm, so I simply said to the nurse, " I will 
go to Dr. Beatty for some medicine; let no one enter 
this tent until I come back." Dr. Beatty was not yet 
out of his cabin, but receiving my urgent message, soon 
appeared. I said, " Doctor, in tent No. — there is a 
very sick man; can we look at the books and learn 
what diagnosis his surgeon has made ?" We went 
to the ofiice, found the patient's name and number; 
diagnosis, — Measles. I then said, " Dr. Beatty, it is not 
measles, but, I fear, smallpox." At once, the doctor 
strode ofi', followed closely by myself. As before, the 
tent was dark. " Lift those flaps high," said the surgeon. 
It was done, and there lay before us a veritable case of 
smallpox. 

Dr. Beatty's entire calmness and self-possession quite 
restored my own. Said he, " I must have time to con- 
sult my surgeons, to determine what is to be done. 
Meanwhile, retire to your cabin. You will hear from 
me when matters are arranged." 

The next few hours were for me fraught with fearful 
anxiety and uncertainty, — yes, uncertainty, — for (to my 
shame, let it be recorded) I actually debated in my own 
mind whether or not to desert these unfortunate boys of 



184 MEMORIES. 

mine, who could not themselves escape the threatened 
danger. 

God helping me, I was able to resist this terrible 
temptation. I had, I reasoned, been already exposed 
as much as was possible, having attended the sick man 
for days before. Having dedicated myself to the Soly 
Cause, for better or worse, I could not desert it even 
when put to this trying test. So, when Dr. Beatty 
came to say that in a few hours quarantine would be 
established and rigidly enforced, offering me transporta- 
tion that I might at once go on with the large party 
who were leaving, I simply announced my determination 
to remain, but asked that Tempe might be sent to her 
owners in Alabama, as I dared not risk keeping her. 

The poor fellow who had been first seized died that 
night, and afterward many unfortunates were buried 
beneath the snow-laden pines. Some of the nurses fell 
sick; from morning until night, after, far into the night, 
my presence was required in those fever-haunted tents. 

"When not on duty, the loneliness of my cabin was 
almost insupportable. Sometimes I longed to flee away 
from the dismal monotony. Often I sat upon my door- 
step almost ready to scream loudly enough to drown 
the sad music of the pines. Since the war I have seen 
a little poem by John Esten Cooke, which always reminds 
me of the time when the band in the pines brought 
such sadness to my own heart : 

"THE BAND IN THE PINES. 

" Oh, band in the pine- wood cease 1 
Cease with your splendid call ; 
The living are brave and noble, 
But the dead were bravest of all ! 

" They throng to the martial summons, 
To the loud, triumphant strain ; 



OMEGA. 185 

And the dear bright eyes of long-dead friends 
Come to the heart again. 

" They come with the ringing bugle 
And the deep drum's mellow roar, 
Till the soul is faint with longing 
For the hands we clasp no more I 

" Oh, band in the pine-wood cease 
Or the heart will melt in tears, 
For the gallant eyes and the smiling lips 
And the voices of old years !" 

When, at last, we were released from durance vile, 
the Confederate army had retreated. Of course, the 
hospitals must follow it. By this time my health was 
completely broken down. The rigors of the winter, 
the incessant toil, the hard rations had done their work 
well. I was no longer fit to nurse the sick. In Febru- 
ary I left the camp, intending to go for a while wherever 
help was needed, relying upon a change to recuperate 
my exhausted energies. 

But from that time there was so much irregularity as 
far as hospital organization was concerned that one 
scarcely knew how best to serve the sick. Besides, 
the presence of a lady had become embarrassing to the 
surgeons in charge of hospitals, who, while receiving 
orders one day which were likely to be countermanded 
the next, often having to send their stores, nurses, 
etc., to one place while they awaited orders in another, 
could find no time to provide quarters and sustenance 
for a lady. As an illustration of this state of things, I 
will here give an extract from a letter addressed to me 
after the war by Dr. McAllister, of the "Buckner Hos- 
pital." 

" I was ordered late in November to G-ainesville, Ala- 
bama; before reaching that place, my orders were 

16* 



186 MEMORIES. 

changed to Macon ; in February to Auburn, Alabama ; 
thence to the woods to organize a tent hospital. No 
sick were sent there, and I had nothing to do but to 
build. Put up eighty large tents, built octagon homes, 
with rounded tops, and flag-poles on the top of each. 
Everything looked gloomy, but I kept on as if I expected 
to remain there always. Just as I had everything com- 
pleted, received orders to move to Charlotte, North Car- 
olina. When I got to Columbus, Georgia, was ordered 
to send on my stores with my negroes and women- 
servants, in charge of a faithful man, while I and my 
detailed men were to remain in the city during its in- 
vestment, and as long as the struggle lasted, but at last 
to save myself, and join my stores in Macon, Georgia. 
Remained during the fight, while the city fell, and all 
my detailed men were captured ; rode out of the city by 
the light of the burning buildings, and my road was 
lighted for twelve or fifteen miles by the burning city ; 
borrowed horses about twelve at night, caught the last 
retreating train, put my servants Noel and Sam on it; 
rode on with my true friend Dr. Yates. Found the ser- 
vants at Genoa Station, a distance of thirty-five miles, 
next morning at sunrise, thence to Macon ; next night 
found my wife on the same crowded box-car ; left her with 
Mrs. Yates, Mrs. Calan, and another lady from Columbus. 
Some of my stores had been sent to Atlanta, and some 
had been sent to Macon ; then the railroad was cut be- 
tween Macon and Atlanta; I had either to remain at 
Macon and be captured, or take the only road that was 
clear to Fort Valley, which I did, leaving my wife and 
Mrs. Yates at Dr. Green's. Yates, myself, Sam, and 
Noel took to the woods, and there remained about ten 
days, living as best we could. Then there was a flag of 
truce, and we came into Fort Yalley. Thousands of 
Yankee cavalry were there in camps ; all the railroads 



OMEGA. 187 

cut so we could not leave. One night we stole from the 
Yankees two good mules, borrowed a wagon, and took 
our wives across the country until we could strike one end 
of the Atlanta road, of which the Yankees had not got 
possession ; went on into the city of Atlanta, where I met 
Dr. Stout, who told me the game was up, that my stores 
were some of them at Congress Station, some hundred 
miles away on the Augusta road, and for me to go on there 
and surrender to the first Yankee who commanded me to 
do so. G-reat heaven ! what a shock to me ! I would 
rather have died than to have heard it. I went down 
the road and found my stores, but did not have the honor 
of surrendering to the Yankees. A mob, constituted of 
women, children, and renegade Confederate soldiers, and 
with some negroes, charged my encampment and took 
everything except my wife, and trunks, and Mrs. Yates, 
and her trunks, which we saved by putting them into a 
wagon and driving for our lives out of the back alley of 
the town. At last we came to Atlanta, where we parted 
with Dr. and Mrs. Yates. My wife and I travelled to 
Marion in an old wagon, leaving the poor negroes 
scattered about in the woods. I only had time to tell 
them to go where they came from, to their former own- 
ers. After a tedious journey, having to beg my bread, 
I arrived at home (Marion, Alabama) about the first of 
May, 1865." 

The same irregularities existed everywhere; my state 
of health forbade me to follow these erratic movements : 
indeed, I was utterly broken down and therefore made 
my way, not without great difficulty and many deten- 
tions, to Alabama, where my little boy had preceded me. 
Even then, we never dreamed of surrender, nor did the 
sad news reach us until many days after it had taken 
place. We were utterly incredulous, we could not, would, 
not believe it. Meanwhile, the state of things described 



188 MEMORIES. 

in one of the articles contained in another part of this 
book, designed for children (Sally's ride) culminated in 
the long-dreaded Haid. 

Why the raiders had recrossed the river, returning to 
Selma, and leaving undisturbed (alas ! only for a time) 
the elegant plantation-homes which lay all along their 
route, remained a mystery. It was certain that a de- 
tachment of them had been seen and reported by our 
own scouts, who at that time were in the saddle day 
and night " watching their motions ;" the negroes also 
declared, " Dey was dare, suah, 'case we dun seed 'em." 
All able-bodied men had long ago gone to the front. 
The " home-guard," who were doing their best to keep 
watch and ward over helpless women and children, were 
only boys, full of ardor and courage, but too young to 
join the army, or men who from age or disability were 
also ineligible. These knew every inch of ground, every 
hiding-place for many miles. At every plantation they 
were expected and welcome, whenever they could find 
an opportunity to dash in, dismount, report the state of 
matters outside, and hastily swallow the "snack" always 
kept ready and set before them without loss of time, 
quite as a matter of course. 

The news brought by these scouts, far from quieting 
apprehension, tended to increase and deepen it. The 
old man who, time out of mind, had managed the little 
ferry fifteen miles away, had been shot for refusing to 
ferry over some Federal soldiers. The bright light so 
anxiously watched one dark night proved to have been 
a fire, which had consumed the dwelling, gin-house, 
stables, etc., of a widowed cousin. Her cows had been 
slaughtered, her horses stolen, her garden and " truck- 
patch" ploughed all over in the search for hidden silver. 
Other and even more hideous tales (alas ! too true) ap- 
palled the hearts and tried the courage of the women, 



OMEGA. 189 

who yet must never give up trying to protect the interests 
confided to them, must seem to hold the reins of power 
when really they were at the mercy of the negroes, 
who (to their credit be it spoken) behaved under these 
trying circumstances extremely well, in some cases 
showing the most affectionate solicitude and sympathy. 
They could not, however, in all cases be trusted to with- 
stand the bribes sure to be offered for information as to 
hiding-places of valuables. So, little by little, silver and 
jewelry were made up into small packages to be dis- 
posed of secretly. 

For several days all were on the qui vive. The fearful 
suspense, dread, and anguish of that time will never be 
forgotten by those who shared those anxious vigils; 
from earliest light until nightfall, restless feet traversed 
the house and yard, anxious eyes watched every possible 
approach, — the road, the woods, the plantation. At 
night, not one of the " white folks" thought of undress- 
ing ; the very last of a bag of real coffee, which had been 
treasured like gold, was now brought out. During the 
day, the usual sweet-potato coffee was served. In the 
cool April nights, a cheerful fire always blazed in the 
open fireplace of the parlor, by it was set a pot of very 
strong coffee, upon which the ladies relied to keep them 
awake. One at a time would doze in her chair or upon 
the sofa, while the others kept watch, walking from 
window to window, listening at the fast-locked door, 
starting at every sound. Occasionally the dogs would 
bark furiously: "There they are!" cried everybody, and 
rising to their feet, with bated breath and wildly-beating 
hearts, they would listen until convinced that their four- 
footed friends had given a false alarm. Those of the 
women-servants who had no husbands begged every 
night to sleep "in de house." They were terrified. 
Their mattresses strewed the floors, and it realty seemed 



190 MEMORIES. 

as if they were a kind of protection, although they 
always fell asleep and snored so loudly as to drive the 
ladies, who wanted to listen for outside sounds, to the 
verge of distraction. Some one would occasionally in- 
terrupt the noise by administering to each in turn a 
good shake or insisting upon a change of position, but 
at best the lull was temporary. Soon one of the sleepers 
would give a suppressed snort, to be immediately joined 
by one after another, until the unearthly chorus once 
more swelled to rack the quivering nerves of the listeners. 
Sometimes a peculiar tapping announced the presence 
outside of the master of the house. Creeping softly to 
the window of an empty room, the wife would receive 
assurances of present safety. She would then hand out 
valuable packages of silver or jewelry to be hidden far 
in the woods in places unknown to any but the owner, 
who marked the way to the buried treasure by " blaz- 
ing" certain trees. Many valuables were hidden in this 
way and recovered after the war. The feeble condition 
of Colonel added tenfold to the anxiety of his fam- 
ily, for, although he persisted in doing his duty, it was 
certain that continual exposure and fatigue might at 
any time prove fatal. Insidious disease was even then 
gnawing at his vitals; but. Spartan-like, he folded above 
the dreadful agony the robe of manly courage and dig- 
nity, which hid it from even those who knew him best. 
Amid all the darkness and sorrow his pleasant smile 
cheered, his commanding presence inspired respect and 
confidence. From the windows of his soul shone the 
steady light of the patriotism that hopeth all things, 
believeth all things, endureth all things. It was not 
God's will that he should go forth to battle, but with 
a kindly heart and generous hand he helped the soldiers 
to do their duty by caring for their "loved ones at 
home." 



OMEGA. 191 

Meanwhile the noble wife proved a helpmate indeed. 
A true type of Southern women. Not a duty was 
neglected. She looked well to the ways of her house- 
hold and the well-being of the negroes committed to her 
care. The spinning and weaving of cloth for the almost 
naked soldiers in the field went on ; the quarters were 
visited, the sick were cared for. The calm, steady voice 
read to the old, precious promises, or instructed the 
young negroes as to the way of truth. So day after 
day passed, the same anxious dread chilling all hearts, 
added fear always recurring as the darkness came with 
its terrible possibilities. 

April had come, bringing a greater profusion of 
flowers, painting the face of nature with lovelier hues. 
No one knew why the neighborhood had thus far es- 
caped being "raided." One evening the scouts (not one 
alone, but several) reported, " Not a Yankee on this side 
the river. Gone off on a raid miles on the other side." 

Colonel came in later confirming the report. He 

was persuaded to remain for one night's rest, and im- 
mediately retired to his room. About dusk two men 
in the disguise (it is now believed) of Confederate sol- 
diers — ^I'agged, worn, barefooted, and hungry — came 
stealing in, apparently fearful of being discovered and 
taken prisoners. No one suspected them. They were 
warmly welcomed. A supper of broiled ham, milk, 
eggs, corn-muffins, and real coffee was set before them. 
They were afterwards shown to a comfortable cabin in 
the yard, — "the boys' room," — provided with every 
comfort, a servant to wait on them, and left to repose. 
These also having assured the ladies that " the Yanks" 
had gone off on a raid on the other side, it was deemed 
safe to take advantage of such an opportunity to go regu- 
larly to bed and rest, in preparation for whatever might 
befall afterwards. By ten o'clock everybody was sound 



192 MEMORIES. 

asleep. About midnight one of the ladies, hearing a 
slight noise, arose and looked out the window. Old 
Whitey was walking about the yard, nibbling the grass. 
Knowing he was never allowed in the yard, she simply 
supposed that one of the servants had left open the 
quarter-gate. Not another sound save the mule's step 
broke the stillness of the night. Strange to say, the 
dogs were nowhere to be seen, nor did they bark at the 
mule. Wondering a little at this circumstance, the lady 
was about to lie down again, when simultaneously every 
door of the house was assailed with the butts of guns 
with a terrific noise. At the same time many hoarse 

voices yelled, "Open these doors, d y ! Open 

up, here, or we'll burn the house over your heads!" 
Everybody at once realized the situation. In that fear- 
ful moment strength and courage seemed to come as 
from above. The servants, sleeping upon the floor, 
began to scream, but were instantly silenced. The 
ladies, slipping on dressing-^owns, but never stopping 
to put on shoes or stockings, quietly opened the doors. 
Instantly the whole house swarmed with Federal sol- 
diers. Their first act was to capture Colonel and 

drag him outside the house, giving him no time to put on 
any clothes save his pants and night-shirt. The raiders 
then proceeded to ransack the house. Every room, 
every closet, every trunk, box, drawer, was rifled. 
Two men went to the sideboard, quietly gathering up 
the few silver spoons, forks, ladles, etc., not hidden, 
wrapped them up and put them in their pockets. 
Others stripped ofl" the pillow- and bolster-cases, stufiSng 
them with clothing, pictures, etc., tied them together, 
and placed them ready to be slung over the backs of 
their horses. Bayonets were thrust through portraits; 
the sofas, beds, and lounges were pierced in search of 
concealed valuables ; bureau-drawers were emptied, then 



OMEGA. 193 

pitched out of the doors or windows; the panels of 
locked armoires were broken or kicked to pieces to get 
at the contents ; even the linen sheets were dragged off 
the beds and thrust into already full sacks and bags. 
Meanwhile, bonfires had been kindled in the yard. By 
the light the swarming demons carried on their destruc- 
tive work outside. Around the pans of delicious milk 
in the dairy men reached over each others' heads to fill 
their tin cups. Buttermilk, clabber, fresh butter, disap- 
peared in an instant. In the basement the officers were 
feasting on ham, etc. The smoke-house was left bare. 
Sugar, meal, flour, rice, were emptied into the yard, and 
stamped or shufiied into the dust. Axes or the butts of 
guns were employed to literally smash everything. Ham, 
shoulder-meat, etc., were tossed into wagons. Cows 
were driven off, and, oh, the beautiful horses, the pride 
and pets of their owners, were led^ snorting and fright- 
ened, into the road, where the saddles of the cavalry- 
horses were put upon their shivering backs preparatory 
to being mounted and ridden away by their new mas- 
ters. 

With perfect calmness the ladies watched the havoc 
and desolation which was being wrought in their beloved 
home, among their household treasures. To one of them 
had been given, some time previous, a sacred trust, a 
watch which before the war had been presented to a 
minister by his congregation. "When dying in one of 

the Confederate hospitals he had given it to Mrs. , 

begging that, if possible, it might be sent to his wife in 
Arkansas. This watch had been concealed upon the 
tester of a bed, and so far had escaped discovery. But 
one of the servants having given information regarding 

it, suddenly two soldiers dragged Mrs. into her 

own room, where they believed it was concealed. She 
positively refused to give it up. Throwing off the mat- 
I » 17 



194 MEMORIES. 

tress, tbe men held a match to the feather-bed beneath, 

saying, " Here goes your d d old house, then." Had 

the house been her own she might still have resisted, 
but as she was only a guest, and had been sheltered and 
most kindly treated, the watch was given up. The 
ruffians then insisted upon searching her, and in trying 
to force a ring from her finger, bruised and hurt the 
tender flesh. Even the negro cabins were searched. In 
several instances small sums of money which had been 
saved up were taken. Many threats to burn up " the 
whole business" were made, but, for some unknown 
reason, not carried into effect. Just at dawn the raiders 
mounted their horses and rode awa}^, recrossing the river 
to Selma with their prisoners. As they rode through the 
*' quarters," tbe negro men joined them on mules, horses, 

or on foot. Among the prisoners rode Colonel upon 

an old, worn-out horse, without saddle or bridle. By his 
side, guarding him and mounted upon the colonel's mag- 
nificent riding-horse, fully accoutred, was a negro man be- 
longing to a neighboring plantation, who had guided the 

Federals to "ole 's place." Just behind, upon a 

sorry mule, escorted by a mixture of negroes and Yankees 

riding his ow^n fine horses, came Colonel M , his head 

erect, his eyes blazing scornfully, glancing from side to 
side, or drawing a sharp, hard breath between his clinched 
teeth as he overheard some ribald jest. His house and 
gin-house had been burned, his fields laid waste ; he had 
left his young daughters without protection and without 
shelter. What the ladies felt as they saw this sad caval- 
cade pass out of sight may not be told. Morning 
dawned upon a scene of desolation, sickening in the ex- 
treme, — ruin, waste, wreck everywhere. The house 
emptied of everything valuable, floors filthy with the 
prints of muddy feet, the garden ruined, furniture bat- 
tered and spoiled. Outside, broken barrels, boxes, etc., 



OMEGA. 195 

strewed the earth ; lard, sugar, flour, meal were mingled 
together and with the sandy soil ; streams of molasses 
ran down from broken casks ; guns which had belonged 
to the family were broken and splintered and lay where 
they had been hurled ; fences were broken down. Had 
there been any stock left, there was nothing to keep them 
out of garden or yard. Only old Whitey was left, how- 
ever, and he walked gingerly about sniffing at the cum- 
bered ground, looking as surprised as he was able. The 
carriage and buggy had been drawn out, the curtains and 
cushions cut and smeared thoroughly with molasses and 
lard. Breakfast-time arrived, but no Euthy came up 
from the quarter; no smoke curled upward from the 
kitchen-chimney; a more hopeless, dismal party could 
not well be imagined than the three women who walked 
from room to room among the debris^ neither noticing 
or caring for the losses, only intensely anxious regard- 
ing the helpless prisoner, who was surely suffering, but 
whom they could not hope to relieve. As the day 
wore on, some of the women from the quarters ven- 
tured near, bringing some coarse food which had been 
cooked in their own cabins ; they would not, however, 
go inside the house, "Mass Yankee tole us we gwine ter 
get kill ef we wait on you all." Towards evening Mrs. 

walked down to the " quarter." Not a man was 

to be seen. The women were evidently frightened and 
uncertain as to how far the power of "Mass Yankee" 
extended. Their mistress had been a kind friend, and 
their habitual obedience and respect for her could not at 
once be overcome, but the threats and promises of the 
Federals had disturbed and unsettled them. Aunt 

Sophy was an old servant who had nursed Mrs. 's 

mother. For years she had been an invalid, kindly 
nursed and cared for by her master and mistress, receiv- 
ing her meals from the family table, and having always 



196 MEMORIES. 

some of the younger servants detailed to wait on her. 

Passing by her cottage now, Mrs. was astonished to 

see it empty. " Where is Sophy ? what has happened 
to her?" "Oh, she dun gone to Selma." "That is im- 
possible; why, she has not walked even as far as the 
house for months." " Well, she dun gone, shuah ; she 
make Elsie hitch up ole Whitey in de cart and dribe 
her ober. One genplum he gwine gib her a mule for 
her ovp-n sef and forty acres ob groun' ; so she dun gon' 
ter see 'bout hit." "Did any one else go?" " Oh, yes, 
mistis, Uncle Albert and Aunt Alice dey go too, and dey 
want we all to go 'long, but I's gwine ter wait untwill 
sees what Jack got ter say, 'cause I ain't gwine nowha 
dragging all dem chillum along untwill I knows for 
sartin whar I's gwine ter stop." Sick at heart, the 
lady turned away, slowly returning to the desolated 
house. Her occupation was gone; order and system 
could not be restored. There was nothing before the 
anxious woman but to watch and wait for news. On 
the second day one of the negro men returned, bringing 

a tale almost too horrible for belief, — Colonel M , 

whose defiant bearing had incensed his captoi'S more 
and more, had been shot down for refusing to obey 
orders. "Master was well, but looked mighty bad." 
The man also brought the first news of the surrender, 
a rumor which all refused to believe, although even the 
possibility filled all breasts with terrible forebodings. 
Gould it be true ? No ! a thousand times no ! And yet, 
— oh, the dread, the anguish of waiting to know. 

The bright sunlight, the waving trees, the joyous 
notes of the feathered songsters seemed a mockery. 
Their stricken hearts cried out to all the beautiful things 
of nature, — 

" How can ye bloom so fresh and fair? 
How can ye sing, ye little birds, and I so weary, fu' o* care ?" 



OMEGA. 197 

Towards evening on the third day of suspense the mas- 
ter returned fresh from the prison, wearjj ragged, dirty, 
and utterly woe-begone, for he had been set at liberty 
only to learn that liberty was but an empty sound. Sadly 
he confirmed the story of the surrender. The kindly 
eyes still strove to cheer, but their happy light was for- 
ever quenched. The firm lip quivered not as he told to 
the sorrowing women the woful tale, but the iron had en- 
tered his soul and rankled there until its fatal work was 
accomplished. Ah, many a noble spirit shrunk appalled 
from the "frowning Providence" which then and long 
afterwards utterly hid the face of a merciful and loving 
Father. And yet, as mother l^ature with tender hands 
and loving care soon effaces all traces of havoc and 
desolation, creating new beauties in lovely profusion to 
cover even the saddest ruins, so it is wisely ordered that 
time shall bring healing to wounded hearts. The women 
who on that April evening long ago grieved so bitterly 
over the news of the surrender have since known deep 
sorrow, have wept over many graves. But, like all the 
women of the South, they have taken up the burden of 
life bravely, and, God helping them, will not falter or 
fail until He shall release them. 

By and by, the men and boys of the family, from 
distant Appomattox, from the Army of Tennessee, came 
straggling home. All had walked interminable miles, — 
all were equally ragged, dirty, foot-sore, weary, dejected, 
despairing. They had done their best and had failed. 
Their labor was ended. 

All over the land lay the ruins of once happy homes. 
As men gazed upon them, and thought of the past and 
the future, the apathy of despair crept over them ; life 
seemed a burden too heavy to be borne ; they longed to 
lay it down forever. For a time, men who had faced 
death again and again while struggling for freedom^ 

17* 



198 MEMORIES. 

could not find courage to look upon the desolation of the 
land, or to face the dread future. Closing their weary- 
eyes, they slept until the clanking of chains awakened 
them. 

Despotic power wrung the already bleeding, tortured 
heart of the South, until crying aloud, she held out to 
her sons her fettered hands. And then, fully aroused, 
hearing the piteous cries, the rattle of chains, seeing the 
beloved face, full of woe, conscious of every bitter, burn- 
ing tear (which as it fell, seemed to sear their own 
hearts), struggling to reach, to succor her, they found 
themselves bound and powerless to save. 

Alas, dear friends, that the pathway which opened so 
brightly, which seemed to lead to heights of superlative 
glory, should have ended beside the grave of hope. Oh, 
was it not hard to believe that "whatever is is right?" 
To kneel submissively in this valley of humiliation, and 
lift our streaming eyes to the heavens, that seemed of 
brass, to the Father who, it then appeared, had forgotten 
to be merciful. The glory which even then was apparent 
to the outside world, could not penetrate the clouds 
which hung above us. 

The land was yet red with blood that had been poured 
out in vain. From once happy homes came wails of 
grief and despair. 

Even the embers were dead upon the hearths around 
which loved ones should never more gather. 

And since hope is dead, and naught can avail to 
change the decrees of Fate, let me close this record of 
mingled glory and gloom, for here must be written, — 

OMEGA. 



CHAPTBE YIL 

CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 

No historian can faithfully recount the story of the 
war and leave untouched the record made by Southern 
women. Their patriotism was not the outcome of mere 
sentiment, but a pure steady flame which from the 
beginning of the war to the end burned brightly upon 
the altars of sacrifice, which they set up all over the 
land. " The power behind the throne" never ceased to 
be felt. Its spirit pervaded every breast of the living 
barricades which opposed the invaders, nerved every 
arm to battle for the right, inspired valorous deeds which 
dazzled the world. From quiet homes far from the 
maddening strife, where faithful women toiled and spun, 
facing and grappling with difficulties, even dangers, 
never complained of, came bright, cheery letters, un- 
shadowed by the clouds which often hung dense and dark 
over their daily pathway but glowing with unshaken 
faith, undaunted patriotism, lofty courage, and more 
than all pride in the exceptional bravery which they 
always took for granted. Men must not fail to come up 
to the standard set up in simple faith by mothers, wives, 
daughters, and, as all the world knows, they did not. 

It was my daily business during the war to read and 
answer letters to sick soldiers. Almost all were such as 
I have described. A few, alas ! were far different. As 
I read them and watched the agony they caused, I 
understood why some men became deserters, and abso- 
lutely revered the manliness and patriotism which re- 
sisted a temptation so terrible. 

199 



200 MEMORIES. 

It seemed once that I could never forget the contents 
of letters which particularly impressed me, but am sorry 
I have done so and cannot reproduce them here. One I 
can never forget. A tall, splendid Missouri soldier came 
into my office one morning, his face convulsed with 
grief. Handing me a letter, he sank into a chair, burying 
his face in his hands and sobbing pitifully. A letter had 
been somehow conveyed to him from his sister-in-law 
announcing that his wife was dying of consumption. 
Appended to the letter (which was sad enough) were a 
few lines written by the trembling hand of the dying 
one. "Darling, do not let any thoughts of me come 
between you and your duty to our country. I have 
longed to see you once more, to die with my head upon 
your breast ; but that is past, — I am calm and hapj^y. 
We have long known that this parting must be ; perhaps 
when my soul is free I may be nearer you. If possible, 
my spirit will be with you wherever you are." 

I can only recall these few lines. A volume could not 
convey more strongly the spirit of Southern women, 
strong even in death. I could only offer the stricken 
soldier the little comfort human sympathy can give, but 
my tears flowed plentifully as he told me of his wife and 
his home. 

He was, as I afterwards learned, killed at the battle 
of Franklin. I thought almost with pleasure of the 
happy reunion which I felt sure must have followed. 

How often I have marshalled into the hospital wards 
mothers and wives, who for the sake of some absent 
loved one had come from homes many miles away, to 
bring some offering to the sick. Timid, yet earnest 
women, poorly dressed, with sunbrowned faces and 
rough hands, yet bearing in their hearts the very essence 
of loving-kindness towards the poor fellows upon whose 
pale faces and ghastly wounds they looked with " round- 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 201 

eyed wonder" and pity. After a while they would gain 
courage to approach some soldier whom they found 
"sort o' favored" their own, to whom they ventured 
to offer some dainty, would stroke the wasted hand, 
smooth the hair, or hold to the fevered lips a drink of 
buttermilk or a piece of delicious fruit. Ah, how many 
times I have watched such scenes ! To the warmly- 
expressed thanks of the beneficiaries they would simply 
answer, "That is nothing; ' mebbe' somebody will do as 
much for mine when he needs it." 

About seven miles from Einggold, Georgia, lived an 
old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Eussell, who, although ardently 
loving the cause, were too old and feeble to serve it other- 
wise than by their unceasing prayers, and by giving 
freely of their substance to sustain the patients at the 
hospitals then established at Ringgold. Their daughter, 
" Miss Phemie," a beautiful young girl, was never weary 
of conferring benefits upon the Southern soldiers ; every 
day she rode in, never minding even heavy storms, and 
often riding upon a wagon because it would hold a larger 
supply of vegetables, etc. Many a soldier was taken to 
the homestead to be cared for. Those who could not 
go from under medical or surgical treatment were often 
treated to little rides. Her devotion to the soldiers I can 
never forget. 

Among the sick and wounded who were sent to the 
hospital at Newnan were many Georgians whose homes 
were within twenty-five or thirty miles. 

After the fight at Missionary Ridge, two boys, brothers, 
were brought in. One was threatened with pneumonia ; 
the other, a lad of sixteen, had his right arm shattered 
from the shoulder down. At his earnest request his 
mother was sent for; the necessary amputation being 
deferred awhile, because he begged so hard that the 
surgeon should await her arrival. She had to ride all 



202 MEMORIES. 

the way on a wagon drawn by a steer (oh, mothers, 
can you not imagine the agony which attended that 
lengthened journey?), and she was so long detained that 
I had to take her place at her boy's side while the opera- 
tion was performed. The boy rapidly sunk, — when his 
mother came was past speaking, and could only express 
with his dying eyes his great love for her. Kneeling 
beside him, she watched intently, but without a tear or 
a sob, the dear life fast ebbing away. The expression 
of that mother's face no one who saw it can ever forget. 

When all was over, I led her to my own room, where 
she asked to be left alone for a while. At last, in answer 
to the sobbing appeals of her remaining son, she opened 
the door. He threw himself into her arms, crying out, 
"Buddie's gone, but you're got me, ma, and I'll never 
leave you again. I'll help you take Buddie home, and 
I'll stay with you and help you work the farm." 

The mother gently and tenderly held him off a little 
way, looking with burning eyes into his face; her own 
was pale as death, but not a sob or tear yet. Quietly 
she said, " No, my son, your place is not by me ; I can 
get along as I have done ; you are needed yonder (at the 
front) ; go and avenge your brother ; he did his duty to 
the last; don't disgrace him and me. Come, son, don't 
cry any more ; you're mother's man, you know." 

That same night that mother started alone back to 
her home, bearing the coffined body of her youngest 
son, parting bravely from the elder, whose sorrow was 
overwhelming. Just before leaving, she took me aside 
and said, " My boy is no coward, but he loved his Bud- 
die, and is grieving for him; try to comfort him, won't 
you?" 

I did tr}^, but during the whole night he paced with 
restless feet up and down my office. At daylight I sat 
watching his uneasy slumber. 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 203 

A few weeks later a young wife came by train to 
visit her husband, who lay very ill of fever, bringing 
with her a lovely blue-eyed baby girl about two years 
old. 

I found a room for her at a house near the hospital, 
and she was allowed to nurse her husband. "When he 
was nearly ready to report for duty, a fearful accident 
happened by which the baby nearly lost her life, and 
was awfully disfigured. At the house where the young 
wife boarded there was a ferocious bull-dog, which 
was generally kept chained until it showed such evident 
fondness for the babe that he was sometimes allowed to 
lie upon the gallery beside it while it slept, and the 
little one on awakening would crawl all over the dog, 
who patiently submitted, and would affectionately lick 
her face. 

One day, however, when the family were all assem- 
bled upon the gallery, the dog suddenly sprung upon 
the little girl, fastening his dreadful fangs in one side of 
her face. Everybody was stricken with horror. Noth- 
ing availed to make the beast loosen his hold, until sud- 
denly he withdrew his teeth from the child's face and 
fastened them once more in her shoulder. At last, as 
no other alternative presented itself, some one placed a 
pistol to his ear and killed him. The baby on being 
released still breathed, but was so torn and disfigured 
that the sight turned strong men sick. 

The father fell in a swoon ; the young mother, pale 
and shaking as with an ague, yet held her mutilated 
babe through all the examination and the surgical 
operations which followed. For two weeks it seemed 
as if the child must die, but she did not, and soon, un- 
conscious of her disfigurement, began to play and smile. 
All pitied the unfortunate father when, after some time 
allowed him through sympathy with his misfortune, it 



204 MEMORIES. 

became necessary for him to return to the front. He 
had borne an excellent record, but now broke down 
utterly, declaring he could not leave his child. The 
young wife, putting down with a strong hand her own 
sorrow, actually set herself to rouse her husband to a 
sense of duty, and succeeded; I was present at the 
depot when the brave, girlish wife waved to the soldier 
a smiling farewell, and afterwards witnessed her vain 
efforts to suppress the short, sharp screams of agony 
which had been kept under as long as her husband 
needed to be upheld, but which after his departure con- 
vulsed her at intervals for hours. 

There are two women against whom, during and 
since the war, I held and still hold a grudge. One was 
of that class of women who undervalue and strive to 
undo all the good done by others; who hold opinions 
and views which they absolutely insist upon carrying 
out regardless of consequences. 

During the whole four years of the war I was 
annoyed by these would-be directresses of hospitals. 
They would intrude themselves into my wards, where 
they hesitated not to air their superior knowledge of 
all sickness, to inspire discomfort and distrust in the 
patients by expressive gestures, revealing extreme sur- 
prise at the modes of treatment, and by lugubrious 
shakes of the head their idea of the inevitably fatal re- 
sult. While the kindly women, who, though already 
overburdened, would take from the wards of the hospital 
enough of convalescents or sick men to crowd their own 
homes, often thereby saving lives, — always doing good, — 
these prowling women would manage to convey their 
sense of the dreadful condition of hitherto well-satisfied 
patients without ever suggesting a remedy. In one of 
the large churches used for sick-wards in Newnan lay a 
young man from Maryland, who had suffered the ampu- 



' CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 205 

tation of an arm. The wound had been careftdly ban- 
daged, the arteries taken up, etc., but as inflammation 
supervened the pain became almost unbearable, the 
poor fellow moaned unceasingly. One night two old 
women visited the ward. Afterward, upon making my 
last round, I found the young man above mentioned so 
quiet that I did not disturb him. It so happened that 
Dr. Merri weather, of Alabama, was in Newnan, in close 
attendance upon his young son, who had received a 
most peculiar and apparently fatal wound. He was shot 
through the liver. The wound, at all times excessively 
painful, exuded bile. Whenever Dr. Merriweather wanted 
an hour's rest I took my place at the bedside of the lad. 
Interest in the case took me very frequently to the ward. 
Just before bedtime, therefore, I returned to the side of 
young Merriweather to let his father off for a while. 
Inquiring of the nurse as to the patient who had been so 
restive, I learned that he had neither moved nor spoken. 
Feeling uneasy, I walked over to the corner where he 
lay. At once I heard a drip, drip, drip, and, calling for 
a light, soon discovered that the bed and floor were 
bloody. Dr. Yates was called at once, but too late. That 
dreadful meddler, the old woman visitor, had actually 
dared to loosen the bandages, and the poor victim, feel- 
ing only relief, had sunk tranquilly to his death. 

The other was a heartless girl, who has, I feel sure, 
by this time made a selfish, unloving wife to some poor 
man. Her lover, after the battle of Franklin, was 
brought to the tent hospital, having lost a leg and being 
wounded in the face. He confided to me the fact of his 
engagement to " one of the prettiest and peartest girls in 
' Massissip,' " and begged me to write her of his condi- 
tion, and, said the poor fellow, " If she don't care about 
sticking to a fellow murdered up like I am, I reckon I'll 
have to let her off" (this with a sigh). Then, with a 

18 



206 MEMORIES. 

brighter look, " Maybo she'll stick, anyhow." How he 
watched for the answer to that letter ! His restlessness 
was pitiful to see. I tried to help him by reading to 
him and by relating to him instances of women who 
only loved more because the object of their aifection 
had been unfortunate. Among other things, I told him 
of the noble English girl who wrote to her mangled 
lover that she still loved and would marry him " if 
there was enough of his body left to contain his soul." 
Afterward I felt sorry that I had encouraged him to 
hope, for it was my misfortune to read to him a very 
cold letter from his lady-love, who declined to marry 
" a cripple.'^ She wanted a husband who could support 
her, and as some man who lived near was " mighty fond 
of her company and could give her a good home," she 
reckoned she would take his offer under considera- 
tion. 

For a few days my poor young friend was inconsol- 
able; but one morning I found him singing. "I've been 
thinking over that matter," said he, " and I reckon I've 
had a lucky escape. That trifling girl would never 
have made me a good, faithful wife." From that day 
he seemed to have recovered his cheerfulness. I have 
never forgiven that faithless girl. 

All over the South, wherever "pain and anguish wrung 
the brow" of their defenders, women became " minister- 
ing angels." 

Even those who had been bereft of their own sup- 
pressed their tears, stifled the cry of bleeding hearts, 
and, by unwearied attention to living sufferers, strove 
to honor their dead. Self-abnegation was, during the 
war, a word of meaning intense and real. Its spirit 
had its dwelling-place in the souls of faithful women, 
looked out from the bright eyes of young girls, whose 
tender feet were newly set in a thorny pathway, as well 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 207 

as from the pale, stricken faces of those whose hearts 
the thorn had pierced. 

Among the tender and true women with whom I 
have corresponded since the war is the mother of 
Colonel Eobadeaux Wheat, the noble Louisianian who 
fell at Gaines's Mill. I have several of her letters by 
me, written in the tremulous hand of one who had 
passed her seventy-ninth birthday, but glowing with 
love for the cause^ and fondest pride in the sons who 
died in its defence. It is touching to see how she clings 
to and cherishes the record, given by his companions in 
arms, of " Eobadeux's" last hours on earth, when, in the 
early morning, before going forth to battle, his heart 
seemed to return to the simple faith of his boyhood, 
and, gathering his subordinate officers around him in 
his tent, he read reverently the service of praj^er which 
committed himself and them to the protection of the 
God of battles. Mrs. Wheat's letters are, I think, 
among the most beautiful and touching I ever read, 
yet sprightly and interesting. Believing that all my 
readers will feel an interest in the mother of glorious 
"Bob Wheat," I will here transcribe a small portion. 
In one letter she says, — 

"I am, thank God, in excellent health for one aged 
seventy-eight. My husband was born in this city 
(Washington, D. C.) in the year one, he says. 

" We shall soon celebrate the fifty-ninth anniversary 
of our marriage, and he is deeply engaged upon some 
* post-nuptial lines' for me." 

In another, — 

" I want to send you a sword and flag for the Expo- 
sition. How I wish I could take it to New Orleans, 
where I lived many years when my husband was rector 



208 MEMORIES. 

of St. Paul's Church ! You know, our second son, I. T. 
Wheat, was Secretary of the Secession Committee when 
Louisiana seceded, also Secretary of the Legislature. 
He was killed at Shiloh at the same hour as General 
Sydney Johnston, and is buried in l^ashville. We are 
hoping to have the dear brother's monument in Holly- 
wood, Eichmond, where both beloved ones shall rest in 
the same grave." .... In conclusion, " Our love and 
blessings rest ever on yourself and all friends of our 
hero sons. Truly yours, in Christian fellowship, 

" Selima Wheat." 

Here is the record of another mother, who is to this 
day proud of the splendid record made by her sons, and 
devoted in the memory of the cause. 

At the commencement of the war there lived in 
Sharon, Mississippi, Mr. and Mrs. O'Leary, surrounded 
by a family of five stalwart sons. Mrs. Catharine 
O'Leary was a fond and loving mother, but also an 
unfaltering patriot, and her heart was fired with love 
for the cause of Southern liberty. Therefore, when her 
brave sons, one after the other, went forth to battle for 
the right, she bade them God-speed. "Be true to your 
God and your country," said this noble woman, " and 
never disgrace your mother by flinching from duty." 

Her youngest and, perhaps, deai-est was at that time 
only fifteen. For a while she felt that his place was 
by her side ; but in 1863, when he was barely seven- 
teen, she no longer tried to restrain him. Her trembling 
hands, having arrayed the last beloved boy for the sac- 
rifice, rested in blessings on his head ere he went forth. 
Eepressing the agony which swelled her heart, she 
calmly bade him, also, " Do your whole duty. If you 
must die, let it be with your face to the foe." And so 
went forth James A. O'Leary, at the tender age of seven- 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 209 

teen, full of ardor and hope. He was at once assigned 
to courier duty under General Loring. On the 28th of 
July, 1864, at the battle of Atlanta, he was shot through 
the hip, the bullet remaining in the wound, causing in- 
tense suffering, until 1870, when it was extracted, and 
the wound healed for the first time. Notwithstanding 
this wound, he insisted upon returning to his command, 
which, in the mean time, had joined Wood's regiment of 
cavalry. This was in 1865, and so wounded he served 
three months, surrendering with G-eneral Wirt Adams 
at Gainesville. A short but very glorious record. This 
j^oung hero is now residing in Shreveport, Louisiana, is 
a successful physician, and an honored member of the 
veteran association of that city, — Dr. James A. O'Leary. 

Of his brothers, the oldest, Ignatius S. O'Leary, 
served throughout the war, and is now a prominent 
druggist of Yicksburg, Mississippi. 

Dr. Eichard O'Leary, surgeon P. A. 0. S., now prac- 
tises medicine in Yicksburg. 

Cornelius O'Leary, badly wounded at the battle of 
Fredericksburg, lay on the field for hours with the 
legions of friend and foe alternately charging over him. 
After a long illness he recovered, and is now a planter 
near Sharon, Mississippi. 

John Pearce O'Leary was killed in the battle of the 
Wilderness. 

Mrs. O'Leary still lives in Sharon. The old fire is 
unquenched. 

There are two names of patriotic women which will 
always awaken in every Southern heart profound vener- 
ation, and imperishable love and gratitude, — women who 
devoted themselves so entirely, so continuously to the 
soldiers of the Confederacy as to obliterate self, uncon- 
sciously winning for themselves the while a name and 
fame which history will proudly record. 
o 18* 



210 MEMORIES. 

Their names — written in many hearts, fondly cherished 
in the homes of veterans whose children are taught to 
revere them — are Mrs. Buck Morris and Mrs. L. M. Cald- 
well. Mrs. Morris was by birth a Kentuckian, but at the 
beginning of the war resided with her husband, a promi- 
nent and wealthy lawyer, in Chicago, Illinois. 

Her sympathies, always Southern, became strongly en- 
listed upon the side of the unfortunate prisoners at Camp 
Douglas. Both Judge Morris and his wife were deeply 
implicated in the plot to release these men. Their home 
in Chicago was a place of secret rendezvous for Southern- 
ers who, in the interest of these prisoners, were secretly 
visiting Chicago. 

By some means constant communication with the 
prisoners was established, and if they still suffered hor- 
ribly, hope revived among them for a while, and her 
blessed presence lightened their burdens. Mrs. Morris 
well knew that by implicating herself in the plot she 
was placing herself and husband in a position to suffer 
in their own persons and property in case of failure. 
Death would be the most probable consequence. Yet 
she risked it all. To use her own words, copied from 
a letter which I received from her shortly before her 
death, '' I did help my suffering, starving countrymen, 
who were subjected to the horrors of Camp Douglas. I 
loved them with all the sympathy and pride of a mother, 
and I did spend upon them every dollar of my own 
money and as much of my husband's as I could get by 
fair means or foul in my hands. 

" At the close of the war we found ourselves broken in 
health and fortune, but my husband had still enough 
left for our support ; but the great Chicago fire swept 
our all away. 

"Should my health improve, I wish to make an effort 
to send you a fuller account, and to add my small morsel 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 211 

of praise to the gallantry and patient endurance of the 
most bitter and maddening trials that men were ever 
called upon to endure. 

" One unselfish action I would like to have recorded 
of a member of J. H. Morgan's command, the same to 
which my dear friend Colonel B. F. Forman belonged, 
and he can tell you how proud all Kentucky was of her 
brave boys. This is what I wish to write, because I like 
to have every noble deed recorded. After my good 
brother, Ex-G-overnor Blackman (who has administered 
medicine whenever I needed it), removed to Tennessee, 
and I felt the attack coming on from which I have so 
long and so severely suffered, I applied to Dr. E. Wilson 
Thompson for medical advice, and, receiving it, put my 
hand in my pocket. He said, almost sternly, ' No, no, 
Mrs. Morris, do not attempt that; you cannot do it,' 
and, rising abruptly, left the house. Eeturning the 
second day, he said, ' I fear you did not understand me, 
Mrs. Morris : I feel as every Confederate soldier feels, or 
ought to feel, — that he could never do enough for you ; 
we could never receive pay from you for anything.' And 
so for the last five months he, although like many of our 
brave boys has had many hardships to endure, and his 
constitution shattered, has come through snow and sleet 
night and day to minister to the relief of an old woman 
who onty did her duty to him and his people twenty 
long years ago. How few remember to be grateful so 
long ! Present my best love to my old friend B. F. For- 
man. I remain always your friend and well-wisher, 

"Mrs. Mary B. Morris. 

"Spring Station, Kentucky." 

From one of the many Louisiana soldiers who re- 
ceived, at the hands of Mrs. Caldwell, the tender care 
and excellent nursing which doubtless saved his life, I 



212 MEMORIES. 

have received a description of the "Refuge," which, 
during three years of the war, was opened to Louisiana 
soldiers ; not to oflScers, although a few personal friends 
of Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell were there by special invita- 
tion ; but it was understood that none but private sol- 
diers were expected without an invitation, while all 
privates were welcomed as to a home. 

"The 'Refuge,' the residence of John E. Caldwell 
during the war, was situated in Amherst County, Vir- 
ginia, about three and a half miles from Lynchburg. 
The residence was of peculiar build, having more the 
appearance of the Queen Anne style of architecture 
than any else, and was probably the only house in that 
section of country where the constructor had diverged 
from the accepted style for a country residence, hence, 
even in its isolated situation, it was known far and wide. 
The estate comprised an area of about eight hundred 
acres, and was cultivated in wheat, corn, etc. The route 
to it from Lynchburg lay, for about a mile and a half, 
along the north side of the James River, from which 
the road turned at almost right angles toward the north, 
over an undulating country, and through a long lane, 
which was part of the farm. 

"The house stood about fifty yards from the road, and 
presented a rather picturesque appearance, the lawn 
being surrounded by a fence, outside of which and in 
front of the house a circular lawn had been laid out, 
around which was the carriage drive. 

" There were four rooms on the ground floor of the 
house, and two in the main building up-stairs, and two 
additional rooms which had been added, but were so 
situated that an accurate description would be hard to 
give, and perhaps harder to understand after giving. 

" The house faced nearly east, and had a porch up- and 
down-stairs, and on the north side a gallery. There 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 213 

were the usual out-houses, and a feature of the place 
was the spring, which was situated at the foot of the 
hill upon which the house stood. Water was supplied 
from this spring by means of a ram-pump with pipes. 
Around the spring was a growth of very fine walnut- 
and chestnut-trees, which made it a very cool retreat 
during the warm daj^s of summer. A large orchard of 
apples, plums, and peaches was immediately in the rear 
of the residence. Between the farm and the road 
which led from Lynchburg to Amherst Court-House, a 
distance of about two miles, was a thick growth of 
woods, consisting principally of chestnut-trees. 

" The whole face of the country consisted of hills and 
dales, and was rather rugged ; the soil rather poor, 
probably having been exhausted by long cultivation. 
The nearest house was fully a mile distant, that section 
of country being but sparsely settled." 

Their painful journey thitherward ended, just imagine 
what it must have been to these suffering men to arrive 
at such a haven of rest ! — a " refuge" indeed. Think of 
the cool, breezy chambers, clean and white and fragrant, 
like ho7ne, of the tender ministry of that gentle woman, 
whose loving service was theirs to command, of the 
country food, of the cool, sj^arkling water from the 
spring under the oaks, held to fevered lips by ever-ready 
hands, while the favored patients drank at the same 
time draughts of sympathy from eyes whose kindly 
glances fell upon the humblest as upon their very own. 
The excellence and faithfulness of the nursing is fully 
proved by the fact that while three or four hundred 
patients were sent to this blessed "Kefuge," no mor- 
tality occurred among the soldiers, the only death being 
that of a little son of Captain Laurence Nichols, who 
had fallen in battle at Gaines's Mill, and whose widow 
found in this lovely, hospitable home a temporary rest- 



214 



MEMORIES. 



ing-place for the body of her gallant husband, and shel- 
ter for herself and child, a lovely boy of three years, who 
was thence transferred to the arms of the Good Shep- 
herd. Sad, indeed, were the hearts of the little band of 
women gathered at the " Refuge." 

The trials of the bereaved wife and mother were in- 
deed sore and hard to be borne, but she could go to the 
graves of her dead and there pray for faith to look up- 
ward, where she knew her treasures were safe for time 
and for eternity. Under the same roof the wife of 
General Francis T. Nichols passed days and nights of 
agonizing suspense. Her husband was wounded and a 
prisoner. She knew he had suffered amputation of an 
arm, but could learn nothing more. Rumors were fear- 
ful enough to distress the young wife, whose trembling 
heart was filled with foreboding. Every few days re- 
ports that seemed true startled her, — he was dead. 
Alas ! it might be true, for how could he live in the 
midst of enemies to whom his high spirit would not 
bend, wounded, suffering, deprived of the loving care 
for which he pined ? Again, he had tried to escape in 
the garb of a peddler, and had been taken up as a spy 
(which no one who knew him believed). In that sad 
household Mrs. Caldwell's duties became onerous and 
multifarious enough to appall one less stout-hearted or 
less devoted to the cause. The inmates of the dwelling 
looked to her for sympathy, advice, nursing, and all 
kinds of attention, as well as for the comfort which 
could come only by superexcellent housekeeping. And 
all this was done, and well done, by one woman, in- 
spired by supreme devotion to the Confederate cause and 
its defenders. Truly such a woman deserves to be im- 
mortalized, to live in history long after the hearts that 
now enshrine her image shall have ceased to beat. 

Later, larger hospital accommodation having been 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 215 

provided, it became difficult to obtain permission for 
private soldiers to leave the wards to which they had 
been assigned. 

Mr. and Mrs. J. Edwards Caldwell then resolved to 
fill up the " Eefuge" with their own friends among the 
officers, saying to each other, " We will do all the good 
we can, and will agree to sustain each other in any 
course without consulting." Very sick and very badly- 
wounded patients were now sent to Mrs. Caldwell. In 
fact, cases which were considered hopeless, but linger- 
ing, were despatched from the hospital to the "Eef- 
uge" to die, but not one of them did what was expected 
of him. The efforts of Mrs. Caldwell were blessed of 
God, and her patients, without exception, improved. 
One of these was Lawson Lewis Davis, of New Orleans, 
wounded at Frazier's Mills, near Eichmond. He was 
suffering from a terrible wound, the cap of the shoulder 
having been removed. He suffered for a whole year 
before recovering. A still more remarkable case was 
that of Captain Charles Knowlton, Tenth Louisiana 
Eegiment. He was wounded in the knee in November, 
1863, and was at once invited to the "Eefuge," but, 
having recession of the knee, was compelled to remain 
undcr°surgical treatment until April, 1864, when he was 
sent to Mrs. Caldwell, and remained nine months more 
under her care. An order had been issued that in all 
such cases amputation should be performed, but Dr. 
Eeid, of Eichmond, his attendant surgeon, decided to 
attempt to save the limb, and was successful. Out of 
many cases of the kind, this was the only one recorded 
where amputation was avoided and the patient's life 
was saved. 

Captain Knowlton now resides near Hopevilla, East 
Baton Eouge, Louisiana, is married, and has two chil- 
dren. Another desperate case was that of John McCor- 



216 MEMORIES. 

mick, from whose leg nearly all the bones were removed, 
but who also recovered. 

There were, besides, three men sick of fever and 
dj^sentery, desperately ill, considered hopeless when 
sent to the "Eefuge," but who all recovered. This is 
certainly a remarkable record, and one to be proud of. 
Among the patients was that noble patriot. Colonel 
Alcibiades de Blanc, of St. Martin's Parish, Louisiana, 
of whom Lousianians proudly relate that he refused to 
be made a brigadier-general, saying he did not feel 
competent to fill such a position, and was content to 
serve his country as a private soldier, feeling that no 
position could be more honorable. 

Of Company K, Eighth Louisiana, and Company H, 
Seventh Louisiana, nearly all the sick and wounded en- 
joyed, at one time or another during the war, the hos- 
pitalities of the " Eefuge." G-eneral Hays was a personal 
friend and honored guest. Henry "Weir Baker there 
recovered from typhoid fever. This gentleman was a 
member of Washington Artillery, a distinction which is 
enough of itself, without an added word of praise. He 
is now residing in 'Nqw Orleans, a successful journalist, 
and has been untiring in his patriotic efforts to develop 
the splendid resources of Louisiana. Fred Washington, 
of New Orleans, was also saved to his country by the 
kindly attentions of Mrs. Caldwell. He also is an hon- 
ored citizen of New Orleans, engaged as a journalist, 
and is one of the faithful few who do not forget. 

He is an active member of the association A. N. Ya., 
always "to the fore" when opportunities occur to honor 
the dead Confederates or to succor the living. 

Of the hundreds who now live to remember with liveli- 
est gratitude the "Eefuge" they once found from the hor- 
rors and toils and pains of battle, and the gentle hostess 
who so unweariedly ministered to them, I can gather only 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 217 

a few names besides those already mentioned, — those 
of Lieutenant Brooks, Seventh Louisiana; Dr. Henry 

Larreux, ; Lieutenant Henri Puisson, Tenth 

Louisiana. 

Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell were New Orleans people. 
Their temporary home in Virginia was taken with the 
definite object in view of offering a "refuge" to sick 
and wounded Louisiana soldiers. She is, of course, 
proud of its "record" and her own, but simply says in 
her letter to me, " On opening the ' Eefuge' (Mr. John 
Edwards Caldwell said to his wife) we will each do all 
we find to do, and all we can do, without consulting or 
telling each other what we do. And this we carried out." 

While seeking materials for this sketch, I have inter- 
viewed several of the veterans who were in Yirginia her 
guests and patients. I had but to mention her name 
to ask, "Do you know Mrs. Caldwell, of the 'Refuge?' " 
and forthwith the eyes of stern men grew misty, and 
an indescribable look brightened careworn faces, the look 
I know so well and have learned to think more beauti- 
ful than " any light that falls on land or sea." " Know 
her! Why, but for her I must have died." Thus to 
become of blessed memory is worth a lifetime of toil 
and self-devotion. And yet the cause and its defenders 
were worth it all, and more. As far as the wounded and 
sick soldiers are concerned, I am sure that Mrs. Caldwell, 
equally with myself and all others, who during the war 
were so blessed as to be permitted to minister to them, 
will be willing to declare that magnificent as were their 
brave deeds, their patient endurance seemed almost "the 
better part of valor." 

There is one bright, shining record of a patriotic and 

tireless woman which remains undimmed when placed 

beside that of the most devoted of Confederate women : 

I refer to Mrs. Rose Rooney, of Company K, Fifteenth 

K 19 



218 MEMORIES. 

Louisiana Regiment, who left New Orleans in June, 
1861, and never deserted the " b'ys" for a day until the 
surrender. 

She was no hanger-on about camp, but in everything 
but actual fighting was as useful as any of the boys she 
loved with all her big, warm, Irish heart, and served with 
the undaunted bravery which led her to risk the dangers 
of every battle-field where the regiment was engaged, 
unheeding the zip of the minies, the shock of shells, or 
the horrible havoc made by the solid shot, so that she 
might give timely succor to the wounded or comfort the 
dying. When in camp she looked after the comfort 
of the regiment, both sick and well, and many a one 
escaped being sent to the hospital because Rose attended 
to him so well. She managed by some means to keep 
on hand a stock of real coffee, paying at times thirty- 
five dollars per pound for it. The surrender almost 
broke her heart. Her defiant ways caused her to be 
taken prisoner, I will give in her own words an 
account of what followed. 

*' Sure, the Yankees took me prisoner along with the 
rest. The next day, when they were changing the camps 
to fix up for the wounded, I asked them what would 
they do with me. They tould me to ' go to the divil.' I 
tould them, ' I've been long enough in his company ; I'd 
choose something better.' I then asked them where any 
Confederates lived. They tould me about three miles 
through the woods. On my way I met some Yankees. 
They asked me, 'What have you in that bag?' I said, 
* Some rags of my own.' I had a lot of rags on the top, but 
six new dresses at the bottom ; and sure I got off with 
them all. Then they asked me if I had any money. I 
said no ; but in my stocking I had two hundred dollars 
in Confederate money. One of the Yankees, a poor divil 
of a private soldier, handed to me three twenty-five cents 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 219 

of Yaiikee money. I said to him, ' Sure, you must be an 
Irishman.' ' Yes,' said he. I then went on till I got to the 
house. Mrs. Crump and her sister were in the yard, and 
about twenty negro women — no men. I had not a bite 
for two days, nor any water, so I began to cry from 
weakness. Mrs. Crump said, ' Don't cry, you are among 
friends.' She then gave me plenty to eat, — hot hoe-cake 
and buttermilk. I stayed there fifteen days, superintend- 
ing the cooking for the sick and wounded men. One- 
half of the house was full of Confederates, and the other 
of Yankees. They then brought us to Burkesville, where 
all the Yankees were gathered together. There was an 
ould doctor there, and he began to curse me, and to talk 
about all we had done to their prisoners. I tould him, 
'And what have you to say to what you done to our 
poor fellows?' He tould me to shut up, and sure I did. 
They asked me fifty questions after, and I never opened 
me mouth. The next day was the day when all the Con- 
federate flags came to Petersburg. * I had some papers 
in my pocket that would have done harrum to some 
people, so I chewed them all up and ate them, but I 
wouldn't take the oath, and I never did take it. The 
flags were brought in on dirt-cars, and as they passed 
the Federal camps them Yankees would unfurl them and 
shake them about to show them. My journey from 
Burkesville to Petersburg was from eleven in the morn- 
ing till eleven at night, and I sitting on my bundle all 
the way. The Yankee soldiers in the car were cursing 
me, and calling me a damn rebel, and more ugly talk. I 
said, ' Mabbe some of you has got a mother or wife ; if 
so, you'll show some resj^ect for me.' Then they were 
quiet. I had to walk three miles to Captain Buckner's 
headquarters. The family were in a house near the 
battle-ground, but the door was shut, and I didn't know 
who was inside, and I couldn't see any light. I sat down 



220 MEMORIES. 

on the porch, and thought I would have to stay there all 
night. After a while I saw a light coming from under 
the door, and so I knocked ; when the door was opened 
and they saw who it was, they were all delighted to see 
me, because they were afraid I was dead. I wanted to go 
to Eichmond, but would not go on a Yankee transporta- 
tion. When the brigade came down, I cried me heart 
out because I was not let go on with them. I stayed 
three months with Mrs. Cloyd, and then Mayor Rawle 
sent me forty dollars and fifty more if I needed it, and 
that brought me home to New Orleans." 

Mrs. Kooney is still cared for and cherished by the 
veterans of Louisiana. At the Soldiers' Home she 
holds the position of matron, and her little room is a 
shrine never neglected by visitors to " Camp Nichols." 

Upon every occasion when the association of A. N. 
Ya. appear as an association, Mrs. Eooney is with them, 
an honored and honorary member. Neatly dressed, 
her cap of the real Irish pattern surmounting her face, 
beaming with pride in " the 6'ys." 

In fiery patriotism, unfaltering devotion, defiant cour- 
age the women of New Orleans had no rival, save the 
women of Baltimore. I know no other place where 
the fiery furnace was so hot, the martyrdom so general 
or so severe. In both instances the iron hand of des- 
potism failed to crush or subdue. 

Women continued to give aid and comfort to Con- 
federate soldiers in hospital and prison, using every art 
they possessed to accomplish their ends. The sick were 
nursed and fed and comforted. Prisoners were assisted 
to escape, concealed until they could be spirited away, 
while their fair friends bravely faced and dared the con- 
sequences of discovery, never hesitating to avow their 
partisanship, crying, " If this be treason, make the most 
of it." A dozen arrests among these devotees did no 



CONFEDERATE WOMEN. 221 

good, for their name was legion. Every house was a 
nest of " treason ;" for here dwelt the women whose best 
beloved were Confederate soldiers. 

And when the end came, when the bravest soldiers 
returned, wretched and despairing, even weeping bitter 
tears within the faithful arms that sheltered them, the 
faces which bent above them still bravely smiled. Be- 
loved voices whispered of encouragement and hope, 
patient hearts assumed burdens under which men fainted 
and failed. 

From the root of patriotism, deeply buried in the 
hearts of Southern women, sprung a new and vigorous* "** 
growth. Its tendrils overspread and concealed desolate 
places ; the breath of its flowers filled all the land, steal- 
ing over the senses like an invigorating breeze. 

" There is life in the old land yet," said men to each 
other. Let us cherish and develop it. And so, once 
more each lifted his heavy burden, and finding it unex- 
pectedly lightened, turned to find at his side, no longer 
a helpless clinging form which should hamper his every 
step, but a true woman, strong in the love which defied 
discouragement, " with a heart for any fate," a helpmeet^ 
indeed, who hereafter would allow no burden to remain 
unshared. 

Thus faithful to the living, the women of the South 
never forgot their dead heroes. At first it was impossi- 
ble to do more than to " keep green" their sacred graves, 
or to deposit thereon a few simple flowers, but the 
earliest rays of the sun of prosperity fell upon many 
a "storied urn and animated bust," raised by tireless 
love and self-sacrifice, to mark "the bivouac of the 
dead." In connection with one of these, erected by 
the ladies of ^N'ew Orleans, in Greenwood Cemetery, I 
know an anecdote which has always seemed to me par- 
ticularly beautiful and touching, as illustrative of an 

19* 



222 MEMORIES. 

exquisite sentiment which could have had its birth only 
in the heart of a true and tender woman. After the 
removal of the bones of the Confederate soldiers, who 
had died in and about J^ew Orleans, from their lowly 
graves to their last resting-place, under their grand and 
beautiful monument, many people repaired thither as 
to a shrine. Among them appeared one evening Mrs. 

H , a sister of the gallant and ever-lamented Major 

Nelligan, of the First Louisiana. After viewing the 

monument, Mrs. H strolled over among the graves, 

and there came upon a few bones of Confederate sol- 
diers, which had been accidentally left upon the ground. 

They seemed to her so precious, so sacred, that they 
must have sepulchre; but how should she accomplish 
this end ? J^othing that she had or could get, in short, 
nothing that had been used would do. Instantly she 
sought the first store where a piece of new linen could be 
bought ; returning with it, she reverently laid the bones 
within it, and, without speaking a word to any one of 
her intentions, buried them in the garden at home, where 
they now lie. 

I have not yet told all I know about Confederate 
women, nor even the half, nor is it needful that I should. 
While recounting their history to future generations, 
Fame will put by her brazen trumpet, yet sing their 
praises in tones so sweet and clear that all the world 
shall hear and wonder and admire. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

AN INCIDENT OF THE BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS. 

These facts were related to me by a Yirginia soldier, 
and woven by me into a story for the Southern Bivouac. 

On the night of May 11, 1864, Lee had withdrawn hia 
forces from a salient point called the " Horseshoe," in 
consequence of a retrograde or flank movement of the 
enemy opposite that point. A battery of artillery, con- 
sisting of four companies, which was to have occupied 
that point, was removed some two miles back. At early 
dawn, word was brought that Grant's forces had again, 
advanced, and the artillery was ordered to return with 
all speed. Faster and faster they advanced until they 
reached the top of the hill, in the very toe of the Horse- 
shoe, to find themselves in the jaws of the enemy. It 
fell to the lot of a non-commissioned officer of Captain 
"W. P. Carter's Battery to prepare the ammunition. He 
first cut the fuse for one second's time. After preparing 
several shells and receiving no word from his general he 
made ready several charges of canister, knowing the 
enemy to be close at hand. Still nobody came for the 
ammunition. He observed next that the drivers of the 
limber-chest had dismounted and left their horses, and 
the horses being without a driver, backed the wheels 
of the limber over the ammunition. To prevent dam- 
age, he seized the off-leader by the bridle, turning them 
back to a front position. While doing this, he dis- 
tinctly heard the minie-balls crashing through the bones 

223 



224 MEMORIES. 

of the horses. Thej did not fall at once, however, 
and he had just gotten them to a front position, when a 
forcible blow upon the right shoulder, made by the 
enemy's color-bearer with the point of his staff, showed 
him that they were upon him. There was no time to 
say " good-morning," so he beat a hasty retreat around 
his limber, " JSauve que pent.'' He had scarcely com- 
menced to run when he felt a heavy blow about the 
middle of his back. His thought was, " Can that color- 
bearer have repeated his blow, or am I struck by a ball, 
which has deadened the sense of feeling?" There being 
no flow of blood, however, he concluded he was not 
much hurt. After a run of forty yai'ds he came to the 
dry bed of a stream between two hills. Here he paused 
to reconnoitre. The morning fog and the smoke of battle 
obscured the view, except close to the ground. Crouch- 
ing on all-fours, he peered below the cloud of smoke to- 
ward the crest of the hill where the battery was. He 
soon saw that the case was hopeless, and the battery in 
possession of the enemy. Looking to the left, he read in 
the anxious countenance of an aide-de-camp on horse- 
back that matters at that point were in a desperate case. 
Eunning up the bed of the stream, he reached the shelter 
of the woods on his left. So far he had run parallel to 
the lijie of battle. When well in the woods, turning at 
right angles, it seemed that he had made his escape. 
Meeting just then with an officer of the battery (the 
only one who escaped) and several comrades, a brief 
consultation was held, suddenly cut short by a continu- 
ous roar of musketry in the rear and near the heel of 
the Horseshoe, showing that the party were in danger 
of being enclosed and cut off within the circle. The 
consultation was summarily ended, and flight again re- 
sumed. This time they ran well out of the Horseshoe 
and out of danger, stopping not until they met Lee's 



BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS. 225 

reinforcements going to the front. Here, from a point 
of safety, they could hear war holding high revelry in 
the bottom below. Now, for the first time the soldier 
took occasion to examine his knapsack. A minie-ball 
had entered the lower part, passing through sixteen folds 
of tent-cloth, many folds of a blanket, riddling several 
articles of underwear, and finally burying itself in a 
small Bible. Such was its force that not a leaf from 
Kevelations to Genesis remained without impress of the 
ball, and half the leaves were actually penetrated. 

Just at this time he was overjoyed to see his brother 
(about whom he had been painfully anxious) returning 
to the rear with a company of the Bichmond Howitzers, 
who, having spent all their ammunition, came to re- 
plenish their chests. This young man had been color- 
bearer of the company, and when the battery first 
reached the hill, had turned to the woods on his left to tie 
his horse. Hearing a wild yell, which he supposed to be 
the battle-cry of the Confederates, he joined lustily in the 
shout and rushed forward bearins: his colors. The foa: and 
smoke concealing from him the true state of affairs, it 
was a terrible shock to see, suddenly, the enemy's color 
floating from the battery. Eealizing for the first time 
that all was lost, he hastily lowered his flag between the 
chests of a caisson, and, tearing off the colors, thrust them 
into his bosom, throwing the staff away. He then ran 
into the woods and up the lines, where he came upon a 
company of the Eichmond Howitzers, and served with 
them until their ammunition was exhausted. 

A remarkable circumstance connected with the above 
incident was the fact that, during the confusion and 
haste following the order for the hasty march, the 
brothers lost sight of each other, and the elder (who 
bore the flag) was compelled to gallop to the front, 
leaving the tent-cloth and blankets, which usually were 
P 



226 MEMORIES. 

included in the roll behind the saddle, to be carried in 
the other's knapsack. The first thought of the younger 
was impatience at the unusual burden he had to carry 
into battle, but reflection brought with it a feeling (per- 
haps a premonition), " It is all right and perhaps the 
means of saving my life." In less than half an hour it 
had proved indeed a blessing in disguise. 

The owner of the Bible, then a youth of nineteen, now 
a minister of the Protestant Episcopal Church, cherishes 
the book and the minie-ball, not only as a memento of 
the war, but with feelings of deepest gratitude, which 
find appropriate expression in the consecration of his 
life to Him who " protected his head in the day of 
battle." It is his earnest hope that he may, by the 
blessing of God, so expound the teaching of that blessed 
Book as to make it a means of salvation to many souls. 



CHAPTER IX. 

FENNER'S LOUISIANA BATTERY. 

Bear friends, when you read the caption of this page 
in my book of " Memories," do not accuse me in your 
hearts of favoritism. Of all soldiers who wore the 
gray, only one was nearer than others to my heart. I 
took no special pride in one organization above others, 
save in the command to which my husband belonged. 
Surely this is quite natural. 

Who does not remember the epidemic of blue cock- 
ades which broke out in New Orleans during the winter 
of 1860 and 1861, and raged violently throughout the 
whole city? The little blue cockade, with its pelican 
button in the centre and its two small streamers, was 
the distinguishing mark of the "Secessionist." 

By none was it more universally and proudly worn 
than by the youth and young men, who, in April, 1861, 
discarded it with their citizen's dress and began " the 
wearing of the gray," which they have helped to make 
a garb of honor and a glory forever. 

When the Dreaux Battalion embarked for Pensacola, it 
was with a definite purpose in view, and a certain con- 
viction that they would at once meet and vanquish the 
enemy. Their prowess was to teach the Yankee a les- 
son and to settle matters inside of sixty days. They 
fully expected to fight, and were eager to begin. Day 
after day, night after night, they momentarily expected 
an assault upon Fort Pickens. But they did not expect 
to be set at the hard duty of digging and wheeling sand 

227 



228 MEMORIES. 

hour after hour, and throwing up intrenchments under 
a burning sun. 

Then the irksom'eness of being under military disci- 
pline, which at first was frequently infringed. For in- 
stance, a party of Orleans Cadets overstayed their leave 
of absence an hour or two ; " upon our return we found 
ourselves locked up in the guard-house for four hours 
and a half." 

Here is an account of one of the monotonous days, 
transcribed from a letter of one of the Orleans Cadets, 
a boy who had been used at home to take his coffee be- 
fore rising, a late, comfortable breakfast, and to walk 
down-town at his leisure on the shady side of the street, 
clad in the cool, white linen suit then so universally 
worn: "We get up at five o'clock to attend roll-call; 
at 6.30 get our coffee and our breakfast, which con- 
sists of crackers and salt pork; at 7.30, back to our 
tents and pack our knapsack, rub our guns, and get 
ready for parade at nine o'clock. 

" We are now drilling at light infantry tactics (Har- 
dee's), which occupies until eleven. We then wash our 
clothes, bring wood for the cook, also water and various 
other things ; dine at two, and again drill at four until 
dark ; get our supper at seven ; lie around until roll-call 
at nine ; afterward go to bed to dream of home. 

" General Bragg has just sent us word that we are to 
be exempt from hard labor at present." 

It is not to be supposed that the men were confined 
to the rations here mentioned. All had money and 
could buy additional food ; most of the messes had 
negro servants, who were excellent cooks, and boxes of 
goodies arrived continually from home. But, as I said 
before, the strict discipline, combined with deprivation 
of the glorious fighting in which they had expected to 
participate, was terribly irksome. 



FENNERS LOUISIANA BATTERY. 229 

It was a most welcome order which transferred them 
to Yirginia, and to the shady and delightful camping- 
ground which I have described in a former article 
(Introductory). An order to join the forces about to 
engage in the battle of Manassas was countermanded 
on account of a movement of the enemy which resulted 
in the " affair" at " Bethel Church." They remained 
upon the Peninsula under General McGruder, who was 
successfully holding McClellan in check by appearing at 
every point assailed by the Federals. 

"The forces under General IfcGruder were the only 
obstacle in McOlellan's road to Eichmond. 

"Under these circumstances, McGruder, with superb 
rashness, threw out his whole force as skirmishers, along 
a line of nine or ten miles. 

" The Dreaux Battalion bore a conspicuous part in 
all the operations of this campaign." Later, the bat- 
talion went into winter quarters. 

Because I wish to contrast the condition of these 
men during the first part of their service and when, 
later, they encountered inconceivable hardships and 
deprivations, I will here give entire a letter from one 
of the battalion, kindly placed at my disposal, describ- 
ing the " house-warming" which was given when they 
moved into winter quarters on the Peninsula : 

" Camp Kightor, November 29, 1861. 
"I received yours of the 14th a few days since, and 
the 20th yesterday, both of which I will answer in one. 
The half-barrel of sugar was received long since, as you 
will see by looking over my letter to you about three 
weeks ago. The sugar came through in good order, 
also the white sugar, medicine, and coffee; the latter 
we use sparingly, mixing it with wheat, — one-third coffee 
and two-thirds wheat. The wheat does not seem to 

20 



230 MEMORIES. 

change the flavor in the least. Sweet potatoes are also 
used in camp in place of coffee, — you dry it, then parch 
and grind it; we have not tried that method yet on ac- 
count of the scarcity of potatoes. All our cabins are 
finished at last ; the tents are used no more to sleep in. 
Our house-warming has taken place. We made about 
ten gallons of egg-nog for the occasion ; we used about 
six dozen eggs. Walton's mess was over, and a good 
many from the rifles ; various members from both com- 
panies of the guards. Also the major, doctor, adjutant, 
and Lieutenant Dunn, Grevot Guards. They say it was 
the best nog they ever drank; the house was crowded. 
The nog gave out, and we had to produce the jug. If 
we had had our sick messmate from Williamsburg, we 
would have had noise (Noyes) all night, but as it was 
it only lasted until one o'clock. Everybody in camp 
seemed to be trying to make more noise than his neigh- 
bor. Beard told us next day that it was a very well- 
conducted affair, that everything passed off so quietly 
with so much nog as that. He evidently went to bed 
early after he left us. 1 saw Posey yesterday, he was 
looking badly, seeming to have been troubled with the 
chills for some time. Since it has become so cold we 
have had to take the cook in the house, which makes 
eleven. This boy outsnores creation, beating anything 
you ever heard ; he woke me up last night, and I thought 
it was the dog Cadet barking outside at the door. 

" If you get this before ma sends off the expected-to-be- 
sent package, and if there is some room, you might put 
in one blanket. Since we sleep two in a bunk, we spread 
our blankets across the bunk. Brunet has three, and I 
have three, which makes it equal to six apiece. Send 
the blanket ; it shall do its share of warming, I assure 
you. I suppose what ma sends will be my share of 
Christmas in ITew Orleans. Our turkeys look droopy, 



FENNER'S LOUISIANA BATTERY. 231 

and there is no telling when they will peg out. We 
keep the gobbler's spirits up by making him fight. The 
camp is full of turkeys, and we make ours fight every 
day. I have plenty of clothes and socks : I have over half 
a dozen of woollen socks. 

" The Gopher Mess send their best regards. 
"Tours affectionately, 

. " Co. A, Orleans Cadets, 
" Louisiana Battalion, Williamsburg, Virginia." 

The formation of Tenner's Louisiana Battery was at- 
tended by tremendous difficulties and discouragements, 
patiently met, nobly overcome, by the gallant officer 
who found himself at last at the head of a company 
composed of men who, whether considered in the aggre- 
gate, or as individuals, had not their superiors in the 
Confederate armies, — intelligently brave, enthusiastic, 
patriotic, gentlemen by birth, breeding, and education, 
whom chivalrous devotion to duty forbade ^to murmur 
at any hardship which fell to their lot. As officers or 
private soldiers, looking to the future of the Confed- 
eracy as to something assured ; never despaii'ing, ready 
to follow wherever and whenever a " hope" was led, no 
matter how " forlorn." 

The record of this little band of devoted patriots has 
never been thoroughly known or understood as it de- 
serves to be. Only once has its history appeared in 
print, — upon the occasion of a reunion of the command 
held in 'New Orleans, May 12, 1884. With great pride 
I transfer to these pages part of an article which then 
appeared in the Times- Democrat of that date : 

"As the term of service (twelve months) of the corps 
began to approach its end. Captain Charles E. Fenner, 
commanding the company of Louisiana Guards, con- 
ceived the idea of raising a battery of artillery. He 






232 MEMORIES. 

had no difficulty in getting the men, a sufficient num- 
ber volunteering at once from the battalion, but he en- 
countered other most disheartening obstacles. The War 
Department had not the means of equipping the artillery- 
companies already in service, and authorized to be raised, 
and he could only obtain the authority to raise this bat- 
tery on condition of furnishing his own armament of 
guns. He succeeded, however, in making arrangements 
with his friends in New Orleans to furnish the guns, and 
the battery had been made and was ready for him in New 
Orleans, when the city fell, and it was captured. 

" Upon the discharge of the battalion, however, he 
changed his rendezvous to Jackson, Mississippi, and 
proceeded there to try and accomplish his object. 
Many of those who intended to join him looked upon 
his enterprise as so hopeless that they abandoned it and 
joined other commands. A sufficient number, however, 
rallied around him at Jackson, Mississippi, and, on the 
4th of Majj, 1862, his company was organized by the 
election of officers, and on the 16th was mustered into 
service. Meantime, the chance of getting an armament 
was hopeless indeed. At last, however, Captain Fenner 
found, lying abandoned by the railroad, the ruins of a bat- 
tery, which had been destroyed on the eve of evacuating 
New Orleans, under the apprehension that it would have 
to be left, but was subsequently brought off. The guns 
were spiked and rammed with wads and balls, the spokes 
and felloes of the w^heels were cut, the trails hacked to 
pieces, and all the ordinary means of disabling a battery 
had been resorted to. The task of reconstructing this 
ruined battery was undertaken, and, after much difficulty, 
successfully accomplished. 

" Then came the trouble of obtaining horses, harness, 
and other equipments, which had to be wrested from 
reluctant and ill-supplied quartermasters and ordnance- 



FENNER'S LOUISIANA BATTERY. ^ 233 

officers. At last, however, all difficulties were over- 
come. A few weeks of active drilling, and Fenner's 
Battery was ready for the field. On August 20, 1862, 
it received marching-orders for Port Hudson. Arrived 
there just after the evacuation of Baton Eouge by the 
Federal forces. Ordered on to Baton Eouge. Eemained 
there a few days, when the battery returned to Port 
Hudson with the exception of one section, which was 
left with one regiment of infantry to occupy the city. 
Held it till retaken by the Federals in December, when 
our small force successfully evacuated it under the fire 
of the enemy's gunboats, and before the advance of 
their infantry, which had landed. The battery re- 
mained at Port Hudson, participating in all the opera- 
tions of the forces there till May 1, 1863, when it was 
ordered to Williams's Bridge to intercept Grierson's raid, 
arriving there a few hours after the raid had passed. 

" May 7. Ordered to Jackson, Mississippi, with Marcy's 
Brigade. 

''Participated in the Big Black campai'gn of General 
Johnston. 

" In position at Jackson, and engaged in the fighting 
around that place from 10th to 16th of July, losing 
several men killed and wounded. 

"After the evacuation of Jackson, retreated with John- 
ston's army to Forrest and Morton. Thence to Enter- 
prise, and from there to Mobile, and remained there till 
November 21, 1863, when ordered to the Army of Ten- 
nessee. 

"Eeached Dalton November 27, just after the defeat 
at Missionary Eidge. 

" Spent the winter in building winter-quarters succes- 
sively at Dalton and Kingston, which were evacuated 
before occupied. 

" On the 1st of May, 1864, General Sherman advanced 
20* 



234 • MEMORIES. 

from Chattanooga toward Dal ton, and the great Georgia 
campaign commenced. From that time till the 1st of 
September following, the Army of Tennessee was almost 
constantly engaged with the enemy. 

"May 8 to 12. Battery in position at Mill Creek G-ap, 
near Dalton, and engaged with the enemy. They fell 
back to Eesaca. Engaged on the 14th of May in sup- 
porting charge by Stewart's Division upon the enemy. 

" On the 15th, battle of Oostenaula. The battery was 
divided, one section on each side of a battery in a forti- 
fied work. The charg-c of the enemy was most desper- 
ate, and they captured and held the fortification, but 
were repulsed from the front of each section of Fenner's 
Battery, which held their positions till night, and then 
evacuated. Eetreat of the army was continued to Cal- 
houn, Adairsville, Cassville, Centerville; engaged more 
or less at each of those points. 

- " On the 25th of May occurred the battle of New Hope 
Church, one of the finest fights of the war. It was an 
assault of the whole of Hooker's Corps on Stewart's 
Division. The attack was almost a complete surprise. 
Fenner's Battery went into position at a gallop, had 
several horses killed while unlimbering, and fired canis- 
ter at the first dischai'ge. The engagement was con- 
tinuous for two hours, during the whole of which time, 
owing to the thickness of the woods, the enemy's skir- 
mishers were enabled to maintain their position within 
from fifty to one hundred yards, but their repeated 
charges were well repulsed. The enemy's loss was ter- 
rific, admitted to be over two thousand, far exceeding 
the number of our men engaged. Fenner's Battery lost 
twenty-three men killed and wounded, and nearly all of 
its horses, and was specially complimented in orders for 
gallantry and efficiency. 

" From this point, in continual conflict with the enemy, 



FENNER'S LOUISIANA BATTERY. 235 

the army gradually fell back till it reached Atlanta, 
around which continuous fighting was kept up, until its 
evacuation on the 2d of September. 

" Ist September. Battle of Jonesboro', in which the 
battery was engaged. 

" This may be considered the end of the Georgia cam- 
paign. 

" After brief rest at Lovejoy's Station, the army com- 
menced its long march to Tennessee by Centre, Jackson- 
ville, G-adsden, and Florence. 

"Left Florence November 20; arrived at Columbia, 
Tennessee, and struck the enemy there November 26. 
Enemy evacuate on the 28th. 

" November 30. Battle of Franklin. 

" December 2. Eeached Nashville. 

"December 6. Fenner's Battery was ordered to join 
General Forrest's command at Murfreesboro' j partici- 
pated in the battle of Murfreesboro' on the 8th, and was 
still with Forrest when the battles of Nashville were 
fought, on the 15th and 16th, and the great retreat com- 
menced. 

" In this fight, which is called the second of Murfrees- 
boro', it will be remembered that Bates's Infantry Divis- 
ion was stampeded early in the action, causing the loss of 
several guns of the Fifth Company, Washington Artillery. 
On this occasion (one of the few instances, if not the only 
one during the war) six pieces of field artillery, being 
four Napoleons of Fenner's Battery and two rifled pieces 
of Missouri Battery, placed in position by General For- 
rest, — their horses having been sent to the rear across 
Stone Eiver, — held the line for three-quarters of an hour 
against the enemy's entire force until the infantry and 
wagons had safely crossed the river on the only bridge 
half a mile in the rear. 

" As soon as the news reached Forrest, his command 



236 MEMORIES. 

started across from Murfreesboro' to join the main 
column at Columbia. There was no turnpike, the 
roads were in awful condition, the horses reduced and 
broken down, and a continuous rain pouring down. 
Two of the guns reached Columbia in safety ; the other 
two would have been brought through but for the swell- 
ing of a creek by the rain, which it was impossible to 
cross, — the onl}^ guns the battery ever lost. The men 
remained by them alone till Columbia was evacuated by 
our forces and the enemy within a mile of them, when 
they destroyed their pieces, swam Duck Eiver, and 
started after the army. The terrors of the retreat from 
Tennessee in midwinter, the men shoeless, without 
blankets, and almost without clothes, need not be re- 
counted here. 

"January 10. The battery reached Columbus, Missis- 
sippi. 

"January 31. Ordered to Mobile. Eemained there as 
heavy artillery till 11th of April, when it was evacuated ; 
go up the river to Demopolis ; from there to Cuba Station, 
Meridian, where, on the 10th of May, arms are laid down 
and the battery with the rest of Greneral Taylor's army." 

A member of the battery, who was an exceptional 
soldier, and who still cherishes and venerates everything 
that reminds him of the glorious past, has kindly placed 
in my hands some letters which I am permitted to copy 
and here subjoin, feeling sure that they will prove quite 
as interesting as the numerous documents of the kind 
published in the "lives" of those high in authority, 
although they contain only the experience of a young 
private soldier, conveyed in dutiful letters to his mother. 
Some of these will suggest the changes which befell the 
soldiers who gave the house-warming in Yirginia, and 
the difference between the first and last years of the 
war. 



FENNER'S LOUISIANA BATTERY. 237 

" Near New Hope Church, Georgia, 
" May 26, 1864. 

"My Dear, — Knowing that you will be anxious to 
hear from me and the company after the late fight, I 
avail myself of the first opportunity to write. Stewart's 
Division of Hood's Corps arrived in the vicinity of the 
Church yesterday morning. Soon after skirmishes com- 
menced, moving a mile oif, and gradually approached us. 
By 3 P.M. it commenced to near us, and 5 p.m. found us 
galloping into position. Clayton's Brigade supported 
us behind log works, which served as an excellent 
shelter for us from the minies. The Yankees ap- 
proached under cover of the woods to within two or 
three hundred yards, where they made their lines. As 
soon as we could see where they were we commenced 
firing into them, and kept it up until the ammunition of 
the limber was expended. They made several charges, 
but were repulsed by the infantry and artillery each 
time. Our loss was heavy (artillery), the infantry not 
being as much exposed as we were ; their casualties 
were slight. At our howitzer Willie Brunet was killed 
after firing some fifteen rounds. He was killed in the 
act of giving the command to fire, the ball piercing him 
above the left eye. Early had four wounded, — viz., 
Yaudry, painfully in the breast ; J, T. Pecot, painfully 

in the back ; Eaton, in the wrist ; Corporal J , ball 

in the side. At Carly's piece none were killed, but 
McGrath and Joe Murphy were shot through the arm, — 
the latter it is thought will lose his arm, — and young 
Ford. At Woester's piece, E. A. Bridges was killed , 
Joe Bridges was shot in the leg ; McCarty, in the foot ; 
Dunbar, in the thigh ; Lieutenant Cluverius, wounded 
in the side; Joe Eeeves, through the leg; St. G-ermain, 
foot. The loss in horses was heavy. Woester had all 
eight horses of his piece killed, and his riding-horse. 



238 MEMORIES. 

Lieutenant Cluverius lost his horse 'Eebel/ who was 
shot in the Iiead, and died. Our detachment had three 
wounded; the horses saved themselves by running 
away. In all, we lost twenty-three, and perhaps more. 
Stanford was on our left, they lost about fifteen killed 
and wounded ; Oliver, sixteen. John Cooper has a welt 
on his shin from a spent ball ; John was driving and lost 
both horses. I was number six at the limber until 
Willie was killed, when I acted as gunner. ^ McGregor 
ranks me, and hereafter I expect to be caisson-corporal. 
General Clayton paid us the very highest compliment 
upon the manner in which the guns were managed ; 
'too flattering to be repeated,' as Captain Fenner re- 
marked. ' Owing to the loss in horses, men, and ammu- 
nition expended,' we were relieved and sent to the rear 
to replenish. A couple of days may right us, when we 
will again be in the front. Stewart did the fighting 
yesterday; I don't believe any other division was en- 
gaged. A part of Polk's (if not all) arrived about mid- 
night. Since Polk's Corps joined us, I have found 
several acquaintances, among whom are John Butler, 
lieutenant of engineers; the two Spencer boys, in 
Cowan's Battery ; and Ed. Hoops, in Tenth Mississippi. 
They were all apparently well when I saw them last, 
and inquired particularly of you. 

" EespectfuUy Yours, 



I enclose a letter that we received from General Clay- 
ton on a copy of the letter to the captain, with an ex- 
tract from the general's report of the battle of New Hope 
Church : 

"Headquarters, Clayton's Brigade, 
" June 7, 1864. 
" Captain, — I take pleasure in making for you the fol- 
lowing extract from my report of the battle of New 



FENNER'S LOUISIANA BATTERY. 239 

Hope Church. With renewed expression of the pro- 
foundest acknowledgments for the signal service you did 
the country, and particularly my brigade, of which every 
officer and man speak in the highest terms, 
" Believe me, dear captain, 

" Yours always, 

" A. D. Clayton, 

" Brigadier-General." 

(" Extract:') 
" For its conduct in the engagement too much praise 
cannot be awarded to Fenner's Louisiana Battery, which 
occupied a position along my line. Although the enemy 
came within fifty or sixty yards of the guns, every officer 
and man stood bravely to his post." 

The following letter describing a Christmas dinner in 
1864 presents so true a picture of the situation, and at 
the same time so well illustrates the soldierly spirit of 
the battery, that I publish it in full : 

" KiENZA, Mississippi, January 4, 1865. 

" My dear Mother, — An opportunity of writing now 
offers, — the first since our leaving Florence, before going 
on our Tennessee campaign, which has finally terminated 
so disastrously for us. Had orders been obeyed and 
carried out at Spring Hill, there never would have been 
a fight at Nashville. By some misunderstanding, the 
Yankee army was allowed to cross at the above-named 
place without being attacked. We followed on their 
tracks to Franklin, picking up stragglers and prisoners 
all along the way, to the amount of several hundred. 

" We left Columbia at daylight, marched twenty-three 
miles, and fought the battle of Franklin before dark. 
Our battery did not take part in the battle : we were in 
position, but, owing to the close proximity of the two 
armies, could not fire, — we were under fire, but no one 



240 MEMORIES. 

was hurt. Stewart's and Cheatam's Corps with one 
division from our corps, fought the battle. I passed 
over the field next morning and saw enough for never 
wanting to see another such field. The men were actu- 
ally lying in some portions of the trenches three deep. 
Ours being the attacking party suff'ered severely, — almost 
an equal loss to the Yankees. Our loss was about 
forty-five hundred, and theirs five thousand, including 
prisoners. Next day we started for Nashville, eighteen 
miles distant. Our battery remained there till the 5th, 
when, we were ordered to Murfreesboro' to aid General 
Forrest in reducing that place. On the 6th we arrived 
there, took position, and built works. Next day, on 
account of a flank movement by the enemy, we had to 
move our position back a mile. Soon the enemy ap- 
peared in our front, and skirmishing commenced. The 
infantry fell back, leaving the artillery to do the fighting 
without one musket to protect us. We stayed as long as 
we could, when we finally had to follow the footsteps of 
the infantrymen. The fight — there was none — nothing 
but a big scare and run. General Forrest sent General 
Bateman with his division to Nashville, but kept our 
battery with him. We lost one man at Murfreesboro', 
I. T. Preston, brother of the Prestons of Carrollton. 
We stayed in camp for seven days when General Forrest 
determined to attack again and took one section of the 
battery with him, — the other section, the one I belong to, 
was sent to protect his wagon-train. Two days after- 
wards the army commenced its retreat from Nashville 
(the particulars of which no doubt you have already 
learned). Our march was over a muddy and rugged 
road for fifty miles to Columbia. It was the severest 
march I ever undertook : we pushed and worked at the 
wheels all the time. The horses finally broke down, 
and we had to take oxen and yoke them in and drive 



FENNERS LOUISIANA BATTERY. 241 

them. Can you imagine me up to my knees in mud, 
barefooted and muddy, with a long pole, driving oxen. 
It was a .very picturesque scene, and no doubt the 
* Yankee Illustrators' would pay a good price for such 
a picture. I was about on a par with two-thirds of the 
others, and we made as merry as possible under the cir- 
cumstances. We had no rations, and lived entirely on 
the people : they treated us splendidly, gave us more 
than we could eat, and left us duly indebted to them 
for their many kindnesses. I for one will never forget 
the hospitality received in Tennessee. We recrossed the 
Tennessee on the 26th of December. Christmas day 
was quite an event to us. We were then out of Ten- 
nessee, in a poor country, and could get very little to 
eat. All day myself and mess were without food ; late 
in the evening we saw a butcher-pen and made for it ; 
all we could get Was oxtails and a little tallow procured 
by a good deal of industry from certain portions of the 
beef. One of the boj^s procured a lot of bran and un- 
bolted flour and at twelve o'clock a^t night we sat down 
at our Christmas dinner (oxtail soup and biscuit), and if 
I ever enjoyed a meal I enjoyed that one. The army is 
retiring to Okolona and the artillery to Columbus, Mis- 
sissippi. The barefooted men were left here to go by 
rail. When we get away I cannot say. We had to leave 
two of our pieces stuck in the mud, the other side of 
Columbus ; the third piece was thrown in the river ; the 
fourth piece, the one I am interested in, was saved and 
represents the battery." 

And here is the last, written from Demopolis, Ala- 
bama, April 15, 1865 : 

"Dear Mother, — You have heard ere this of the 
evacuation of Mobile, which happened on the day of 
the eleventh. After the fall of Spanish Fort and 
-L q 21 



242 MEMORIES. 

Blakely, all hope of holding Mobile was given up. The 
works around the city were made to be manned by 
eight thousand, but, after the capture of the garrison 
at Blakely, our forces were too much reduced to hold 
the place. When evacuated, the place was not threat- 
ened, but might have been completely invested in a 
week's time. All the heavy guns were destroyed : we 
destroyed seven twenty-four pounders. The total loss 
of guns must have amounted to three hundred. We 
left Mobile by boat, and each man with a musket. It 
is a heavy fall for us who have been in artillery for 
three years, and now find ourselves as infantrymen, 
much to our displeasure. As much as I dislike it, I 
shall keep my musket until something better turns 
up. ..." 

The history of the battery, from first to last, is that 
of the rough soldiers, brave in battle, uncomplaining, 
cheerful, even jolly^ under the most trying circum- 
stances, bearing with equanimity the lesser ills of a 
soldier's life, with unshaken fortitude and undimin- 
ished devotion to " The Cause," indescribable hardships 
and discouragements. 

Proud as I am of their whole record, I must admire 
the noble spirit which animated these patriots, when, 
at Mobile, having been deprived of their cannon, they 
cheerfully shouldered the muskets assigned to them, and 
were prepared to use them, never dreaming that the 
bitter end was so near. All soldiers will well under- 
stand that this was a crucial test of their devotion and 
patriotism. 

The exceptional talent which, during the war, these 
young men freely gave in aid of every charity, was then 
only budding. Since the war, splendid fruit has ap- 
peared. 



FENNERS LOUISIANA BATTERY. 243 

Perhaps no single comi^any of veterans numbers 
among its members more talented and remarkable men, 
or more prominent and loyal citizens. 

Of the "boys" who once composed Fenner's Louisi- 
ana Battery, a goodly number yet survive. 

The ties of old comradeship bind them closely. Not 
one forgets the glories of the past. True, 

" Some names they loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a year 
On the tomb," 

but the survivors " close up" the broken ranks, and still 
preserve, in a marked degree, the esprit du corps which 
belonged to 

" The days that are no more." 



CHAPTEE X. 

"BOB WHEAT." 

The Boy and the Man, 
(Communicated.) 

In the early summer of 1846, after the victories of 
Palo Alto and Eesaca de la Palma, the United States 
Army, under General Zachary Taylor, lay near the town 
of Matamoras. Visiting the hospital quarters of a re- 
cently-joined volunteer corps from "the States," I re- 
marked a bright-eyed youth of some nineteen years, 
wan with disease, but cheery withal. The interest he 
inspired led to his removal to army headquarters, where 
he soon recovered health »and became a pet. This was 
" Bob Wheat," son of an Episcopal clergyman, and he 
had left school to come to the war. He next went to 
Cuba with Lopez, was wounded and captured, but escaped 
the garroters to follow G-eneral Walker to Nicaragua. 

Exhausting the capacity of South American patriots 
to pronounce, he quitted their societj'" in disgust, and 
joined Garibaldi in Italy, whence his keen scent of 
combat summoned him home in time to receive a bullet 
at Manassas. The most complete Dugald Dalgetty pos- 
sible ; he had " all the defects of the good qualities" of 
that doughty warrior. 

Some months after the time of which I am writing, a 
body of Federal horse was captured in the valley of 
Yirginia. The colonel commanding, who had dis- 
mounted in the fray, approached me. A stalwart, with 
huge moustache, cavalry boots adorned with spurs 
244 



''BOB wheat:' 245 

worthy of a caballero, slouched hat and plume j he 
strode along with the nonchalant air of one who had 
wooed Dame Fortune too long to be cast down by her 
frowns. 

Suddenly Major "Wheat near by sprung from his 
horse with a cry of " Percy, old boy !" " Why, Bob I" 
was echoed back, and a warm embrace followed. Colo- 
nel Percy Windham, an Englishman in the Federal 
service, had parted from Wheat in Italy, where the 
pleasant business of killing was then going on, and now 
fraternized with his friend in the manner described. 

Poor Wheat ! A month later he slept his last sleep 
on the bloody battle-field of Cold Harbor. He lies there 
in a soldier's grave. 

Gallant spirit; let us hope that his readiness to die 
for his country has made " the scarlet of his sins like 
unto snow." 



21* 



PART II. 

FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 



CHAPTEE I. 

NELLY. 



In the early autumn, on a lovely afternoon, a little 
girl sat upon the stile which led from a spacious farm- 
yard into a field of newly-mown wheat. In her hand 
she held a long switch, and her business was to watch 
the motions of a large flock of fowls, which, as is usual 
at harvest-time, had been kept in their coop all day, 
and only let out for an hour or two, just before sun- 
set, to run about in the grassy yard, seeking bugs and 
worms, or other dainties, which they alone know how 
to find. 

Of course they could not be allowed in the field before 
the grain had been safely garnered, so Nelly had been 
permitted to mount guard upon the stile, the better to 
observe and control them. She quite felt the importance 
of the trust, and, holding her switch as proudly as if it 
had been a sceptre, was eager and quick to discover oc- 
casions to use it. Many a staid and demure-looking hen, 
or saucy, daring young chicken, had stolen quite near to 
her post, stopping every few moments to peer cautiously 
around, or to peck at a blade of grass or an imaginary 
worm, as if quite indifferent to the attractions presented 
246 



I 



NELLY. 247 

by the field beyond, but just as they had come close to 
the fence, thinking themselves unnoticed, Nelly would 
jump from her perch, and, with a thwack of the switch, 
send them squawking back to their companions. At 
length, however, the child seemed to grow wearj^ of 
her task. Slowly descending to the ground, she walked 
toward the barn, and, returning with her apron full 
of corn, opened the door of the chicken-house, and, 
having enticed her cliarge within, shut them up for the 
night. This done, Nelly wandered aimlessly about for 
a while, then, sitting down upon a large stone, which 
seemed to have been rolled under a tree just to make a 
nice seat, she looked around in an impatient and discon- 
tented manner. The sights and sounds which sur- 
rounded her were very pleasant, and — one would have 
imagined — exceedingly attractive to a child. The rays 
of the declining sun, slanting across the grassy yard, 
brightened up the low, brown farm-house until the old- 
fashioned glass door and latticed windows on either 
side seemed as if brilliantly lighted from within. One 
might easily have imagined it an enchanted castle. 
The mossy roof looked as if gilded. In front of the 
house the well-bucket, hanging high upon the sweep, 
seemed dropping gold into the depths beneath. On the 
porch, upon a table scrubbed '' white as the driven 
snow," were set the bright tin pans ready to receive 
the evening's milk. Within the house the maids were 
singing gayly as they passed to and fro preparing a 
substantial supper for the farmer. Outside, the creak- 
ing wagons were being driven into the barn-yard. 
Gentle oxen, released from their daily toil, stood 
patiently waiting to be fed. Horses, with a great deal 
of stamping and fuss, were led into the barn. Up the 
lane came the cow-boy, alternately whistling, singing, 
and cracking his whip, until at length the drove of 



248 MEMORIES. 

sweet-breathed cows stood lowing at the bars, which, at 
milking-time, would be let down for them to pass each 
to her own stall. 

Nelly seemed to see and hear nothing that was pass- 
ing around her. The shadow upon her face deepened ; 
the sweet blue eyes filled with tears. At last she rose, 
and, crossing the stile, passed rapidly through the 
wheat-field, climbed a low stone wall and presently 
came to a green knoll, shaded by a. sycamore-tree, 
commanding a view of the public road. Here she 
stood, eagerly gazing down the road, while seemingly 
struggling to subdue a sorrow which, however, soon 
found vent in heart-broken sobs. Still searching the 
road with anxious, tearful eyes, she seemed to hesitate 
for a while, but at last, after casting many a fearful 
glance toward the farm-house, the little girl began to 
descend the high bank, slipping many times, and sadly 
scratched by the rough gravel and projecting roots of 
the trees. 

Having reached the bottom, she did not pause a 
moment, but drew her light shawl over her head and 
ran swiftly away. And now let us try to discover the 
cause of all this trouble. 

My dear young friends, have you ever heard of a dis- 
ease called "nostalgia?" A long, hard word, and one 
which contains a world of terrible meaning. It is a 
kind of sickness which attacks not only children, but 
also strong and wise men, who have been known to 
suffer, nay, even to die, because they could not obtain 
the only remedy which ever does any good. Nostalgia 
means homesickness. 

Poor little Nelly was homesick, and in desperation 
she had fled, hoping to find, not her own dear. Southern 
home, for that she knew she could never see again, but 
the house of her grandmamma, where she had some time 



NELLY. 249 

before left her dear mother. The little girl had, ever 
since she could remember, lived very happily with her 
parents in their lovely Virginia home. An only child, 
she was petted to her heart's content, having scarcely 
a wish ungratified. But when the war began her papa 
became a soldier. Nelly thought he looked very grand 
in his uniform of gray with its red trimmings and bright 
buttons, and rather liked the idea of having a soldier 
papa. But after he had gone away she missed him 
dreadfully. Her mamma was always so pale and sad 
that the child also grew anxious, and could no longer 
enjoy her play. At first letters from the absent soldier 
cheered them, but as the months passed they ceased to 
hear at all, except the wild rumors which often frightened 
and distressed the anxious wife. " Maum Winnie," an old 
negro servant, who claimed to have " raised Mars Ned" 
(Nelly's papa), now proved a faithful friend and a great 
comfort to her mistress ; but Nelly, missing the old 
woman's cheerful talk and the laugh that used often to 
shake her fat sides, thought she had grown cross and 
exacting. 

The bright morning sunlight sometimes made the 
little girl forget to be sorrowful, and when her "Ponto" 
came frisking around her, she gladly joined him in a 
wild romp. Immediately Maum Winnie would appear, 
the very picture of dignified astonishment, — " Now, Miss 
Nelly, ain't you 'shame' ? Yer pore mar she bin had a 
mity onrestless night, an' jes' as she 'bout to ketch a 
nap o' sleep, yere you bin start all dis 'fusion. Now, 
her eye dun pop wide open, an' she gwine straight to 
studyin' agin." The days passed, each made more 
gloomy by rumors of the near approach of the enemy. 
At last, one dreadful night, a regiment of Federal sol- 
diers suddenly appeared, and at midnight Nelly and 
her mamma were compelled to seek shelter in Maum 



250 



MEMORIES. 



Winnie's cabin. The next morning only a heap of 
smoking ruins remained to show where their sweet 
home had been. 

The pjantation owned by Nelly's papa was some three 
miles distant from the family residence ; therefore, only 
the few servants necessary for household service lived 
upon the " home place." Their cabins, somewhat re- 
moved from the house, had escaped the flames. Maum 
Winnie's was larger and better furnished than any, and 
far more attractive in appearance. A rustic fence, built 
by her old husband, " Uncle Abe" (long since dead), 
enclosed a small yard, where grew all kinds of bright, 
gaudy " posies," with here and there a bunch of mint or 
parsley or sage, and an occasional stalk or two of 
cabbage. Over the little porch were trained morning- 
glories and a flourishing gourd vine. Beneath, on each 
side, ran a wide seat, where, in the shade, Maum Win- 
nie used to sit with her knittings or nodding over the 
big Bible which on Sunday evening she alwaj^s pretended 
to read. The neat fence was now broken down, the 
bright flowers all trampled and crushed by the feet of 
men and horses. Inside also, the once spotless floor was 
muddy and stained with tobacco, all the old woman's 
treasures being broken and scattered. Amid all this 
confusion, in the little front room, once the pride of 
Winnie's heart, was carefully placed almost the only 
thing saved from the burning, an easy-chair, cushioned 
upon the back and sides, and covered with old-fashioned 
chintz. How the faithful soul had managed to get it 
there no one could have told, but there it stood, and 
Winnie said, " Dat ar wos ole mistes' cheer, and she sot 
in it plum twill she die. Ole Winnie couldn't stan' an' 
see dat burn, nohow." Upon the little porch sat Nelly 
and her mamma on the morning after the fire, worn out 
with excitement, and feeling utterly forlorn. Soon Win- 



NELLY. 251 

nie appeared, bearing upon a gay red tray two steaming 
cups of coffee. Mrs. Grey took only a sip or two, then 
setting the cup upon the bench at her side, she grasped 
the arm of her old servant, and, leaning her head upon the 
faithful breast, began to sob and moan piteously. Nelly 
at this also cried bitterly. Tears streamed down Win- 
nie's fat black cheeks. But the faithful negro tried to 
soothe and comfort her mistress, patting her shoulders 
as if she had been a baby, saying, " Dah ! Dah ! honey, 
don't take it so haad. Try to truss in de Lawd. He 
dun promus, an' he aint gwine back on nobody. I's 
dun sperience dat.''' 

At last, won by Nelly's caresses and Maum Winnie's 
coaxing, the weary lady consented to take some repose 
in " ole missis' cheer," where, leaning her aching head 
upon the cushioned side, she fell asleep. 

Nelly greatly enjoyed the strong coffee (which she 
never before had been allowed to drink). It made her 
feel very wide awake. Presently she strolled off to- 
ward the adjoining cabins. These were quite empty, 
the men-servants having disappeared with the Federal 
soldiers the night before, the women had followed to 
their camp not far distant. Not a living thing was to 
be seen \ even the chickens had disappeared. The whole 
scene was very desolate, — the smoking ruins, the deserted 
cabin, a cloudy sky. Soon the child remembered her 
playfellow, Ponto, and began to call him. A doleful 
whine answered her, seeming to proceed from under one 
of the negro cabins. Nelly stooped to look, but could 
only see two glowing eyes, and hear the knocking of the 
dog's tail upon the ground. Ponto had been so badly 
frightened that no coaxing or ordering would induce 
him to come out. So his little mistress walked angrily 
away, and, passing through the broken gate, stood look- 
ing up and down the road. Presently there came riding 



252 MEMORIES. 

along a Federal officer on horseback, who, discovering 
the forlorn child, stopped to speak to her. 

Nelly's first impulse was to run away, but, instead, 
she stood clinging to the gate-post, kicking the ground 
with one foot and flashing angry glances at the " Yan- 
kee." The officer sighed deeply as his glance fell upon 
the ruined home, and then upon the little, tear-stained 
face before him. Dismounting, he approached more 
closely, and strove to take the unwilling hand. But 
the child now broke into a storm of sobs, crying out, 
" Gro awayl you're a naughty Yankee, and I hate you. 
' You alls' have burnt up my mamma's pretty house, and 
all our things, and my mamma just cries and cries ; but 
my papa is gone to fight the ' Yankees,' and I hope he 
will shoot them all !" 

The soldier slowly paced back and forth. " Ah," said 
he, softly, "if this were my little Ida: Grod bless her! 
Little girl, where is your mamma ? Perhaps I can help 
her. Will you lead me to her ?" 

The child had hidden her face upon her arm, but now 
looked up in affright. " You won't hurt my mamma ? 
You ar'n't going to burn up Maum Winnie's house?" 
said she. 

Gradually his kind face and gentle manner reassured 
her, and she was, at last, persuaded to convey to her 
mother a few lines which he pencilled on a card. To 
Nelly's surprise, Mrs. Grey consented to receive the 
" Yankee." The little girl was sent to conduct him to 
the cabin. The lady was standing at the door as the 
officer and his little escort drew near. Nelly thought 
she had never seen her mamma look so pretty. Her 
eyes were shining, a lovely red spot glowed upon each 
cheek, but she did not smile as she used to do when 
receiving a guest, and, while offering the stranger a 
seat, she remained standing, looking very tall and grand. 



NELLY. 253 

During the conversation which followed, Mrs. Grey 
learned that as a battle was imminent at the front it 
was impossible to pass her through the lines (which had 
been her hope when she consented to see the officer). 
It was equally impossible to remain where she was. 
Her only place of refuge was her mother's home in 
Maryland, where she had been raised, and had lived 
previous to her marriage. 

Promising to arrange for her transportation to the 
nearest railroad station, the kind-hearted officer took 
his leave. 

When Maum Winnie was told of the proposed jour- 
ney, she was greatly troubled. But when Mrs. Grey 
further informed her that she was free and not ex- 
pected to make one of the party, her distress knew 
no bounds. Eushing out of the cabin, she seated her- 
self on a log at some distance, and, throwing her apron 
over her head, rocked her body to and fro, wailing out, 
*' Oh, my hebbenly Marster, 'pears like I aint fitten to 
bar all dis trouble. An' how dem dar gwine to do 'out 
ole Winnie?" 

After a while, drawing her pipe and tobacco from her 
pocket, she sought the comfort of a smoke. Just then, 
Euthy, the cook, made her appearance with a large 
bucket on her head. Flaunting past the old woman, she 
entered the kitchen without a word, and set about pre- 
paring a supper for the hungry inmates of the cabin. 
Where the material came from she declared was " her 
bizness," and her saucy manner and independent talk so 
confounded Maum Winnie that she asked no more ques- 
tions, concluding that "Mars Yankee sont 'em an' made 
dat gal fotch 'em." 

Mrs. Grey and Nelly had few preparations to make 
for the morrow. The child, soon after sunset, threw 
herself across the foot of the high feather-bed which 

22 



254 MEMORIES. 

stood in a corner of the cabin, and slept soundly. Maum 
Winnie, taking off her shoes, bustled about in her 
stocking-feet, apparently very busy. Her movements 
were for some time unobserved by her mistress, who 
was lost in thought. At last, kneeling before the fire- 
place, she reached up the chimney and brought out from 
its hiding-place an old, black tea-pot, with a broken 
spout. From this she took several papers of dried 
*'yarbs," some watermelon-seed, an old thimble, a broken 
tea-spoon, a lock of " de ole man's ha'r," and lastly, the 
foot of an old stocking, firmly tied up. 

This last it took some time to undo, but finally, ap- 
proaching Mrs. G-rey, she turned out into the astonished 
lady's lap what proved to be a collection of gold and 
silver coins, the hoarded savings of years, the gift of 
many whom she had served. 

"Why, Winnie," said Mrs. Grey, "what does this 
mean? Where did you get this money, and why do 
you give it to me?" 

" Wall, Miss Ellen, yo' see, ez fur back ez ole mass an' 
mistes' time, me an' my ole man usen to wait on de wite 
gemplums an' ladies wot come to de big house, an' de 
ole man he mity clus-fisted, an' nebber spen' nuffin, an' 
sence he die, an' ole mass an' miss dey gone, too. Mars 
!N"ed he dun tuk mity good keer of ole Winnie, an' I 
nebber bin had no excessity to spend dat money, so I's 
kep' it an' kep' it, ontwill 'pears like de Lawd he dun pint 
out de way fur it to go. 'Sides, we all's gwine way off 
yander, an' we can't 'pear no ways 'spectable 'dout little 
cash money." 

" But, Winnie, only !N'elly and I are going away. You 
are free now, and will find other friends, and " 

"Dah! dah! honey," broke in the poor old creature, 
" don' say no mo' ! I's ^bleeged to go 'long. Wat I 
want to be free for ? Who gwine keer 'bout me ? 'Sides, 



NELLY. 255 

I dun promus Mars Ned I gwine to see to you an' dat 
chile yander, an' I's gwine 'long shuah.'' 

Wearied and exhausted with the discussion, and un- 
willing to grieve her husband's faithful old nurse, who 
still clung to her own fallen fortunes, Mrs. Grey ceased 
to object, but resolutely refused to take the money, which 
AYinnie reluctantly gathered up and carried out of the 
room, to seek among the numerous secret pockets she 
always wore a secure hiding-place for her treasure. 
This decided upon, while Mrs. Grey sank into an uneasy 
slumber in the chair, the old woman made a little fire 
just outside the back shed, where, with her pipe now 
lighted and now " dead out," she nodded and dozed until 
morning. 

Nelly awoke at sunrise, bewildered at her strange sur- 
roundings, then oppressed and sadly grieved by recol- 
lections of all that had happened. Catching sight of 
her mother's pale, suffering face, the child flew to her 
side, seeking to cheer her by fond caresses. 

Just then the sound of wheels was heard as the am- 
bulance-wagon, which was to convey them to the rail- 
road, drew up before the door. The driver dismounting, 
announced that, as the camp was about to be broken up, 

Colonel desired the ladies to start at once, adding 

that " the colonel would ride over to see them off." 

Their loss by the fire had been so complete that there 
was no baggage. Nelly was glad to wear a clean, white 
sun-bonnet of Winnie's, and Mrs. Grey was similarly 
equipped with a black one and a small black shawl. 
Maum Winnie appeared in full Sunday rig, her head 
crowned with a towering head-hftfidkerchief. Her 
manner was lofty 'and Imposing. Evidently she was 
aiming to support the famil}^ dignity, which had been 
quite lost sight of by the others, Mrs. Grey being far 
too sorrowful, and Nelly, in spite of everything, gay 



256 MEMORIES. 

and excited at the prospect of a ride and a change. 
Putting on her brass-rimmed spectacles, the old woman 
inspected, with an air of supreme contempt, the " turn- 
out" before the door, occasionally rolling her eyes toward 
the driver in a manner that spoke volumes, but was 
quite lost upon " dat po' wite trash, who 'spected Miss 
Ellen to git in dat ole market-wagon." After the others 
were seated, Winnie disappeared within the cabin, and, 
after much delay, came out dragging an immense bundle. 
She had tied up in a gorgeous bed-quilt her feather-bed 
and pillows with, — nobody knows how many things 
besides. 

The driver sprang to the ground in consternation. 

" Hey, old nigger, what's in that great bundle ? You 
can't lug that along. What you got in there, any- 
how?" 

" Dat my bizness," retorted Winnie. " You is too in- 
quisity; 'sides, who you call nigga'? I's a 'spectable 
cullud ooman, and Mars !Ned nebber 'low nobody to call 
me outen my name." 

Mrs. Grey vainly tried to restore peace ; her voice was 

not even heard ; but just then Colonel rode up, and 

as Winnie seemed inclined to stand her ground, he gave 
her a choice between mounting at once to a seat beside 
the driver or being left behind. Then perceiving that 
Mrs. Grey seemed quite overcome by emotion, and wish- 
ing to remove her as quickly as possible from the desolate 
scene before her, he gave the order to drive on, and, rais- 
ing his hat, rode off towards camp before the lady could 
find voice to express her gratitude. A few hours' ride 
brought the refugees to the railroad station, where they 

took the cars for , the home of Nelly's grandmamma. 

Here a warm welcome and entire comfort awaited them. 
Nelly had often spent weeks at a time with her grand- 
mamma, and was delighted to find all her old haunts as 



NELLY. 257 

pleasant as ever. Her dolls, toys, books, etc, had been 
carefully kept. Better than all, she discovered a fine 
Newfoundland puppy and a litter of pretty white kit- 
tens to console her for the loss of Ponto. 

One day, when they had been at grandmamma's only 
a fortnight, Nelly saw a neighboring farmer drive up to 
the front gate, and ran gladly to meet him, for farmer 
Dale was a cheery old man, who had always seemed 
very fond of the child. Now, however, he looked very 
grave, merely shaking hands, then bidding Nelly tell 
her grandmamma that he must see her at once, "and, 
Nelly you need not come back," said he, "I have busi- 
ness with your grandma." Soon after the farmer drove 
away, while grandmamma returned to the house, wear- 
ing a very serious face, and after sitting in the darkened 
parlor awhile, apparently thinking deeply, passed slowly 
into her daughter's room. Then Nelly heard a faint 
cry from her mamma, and hurrying into the house, 
Tound her excitedly walking up and down, wringing 
her hands, and crying, "I must go to him! I must, I 
must 1" A letter received by farmer Dale from his son, 
who was a Confederate soldier, had contained the news 
that Mr. Grey was wounded and a prisoner. Just where 
was unknown, or whether his wounds were severe 
or perhaps fatal. This news rendered the poor wife 
almost frantic. All night she paced the floor in sleep- 
less agony. Next day the farmer paid a second visit 
and was for a long time closeted with the distressed 
ladies. Afterward, Mrs. Grey seemed more restless 
than before, requiring the constant attention of both 
grandmamma and Maum Winnie. Thus a week passed. 
Suddenly, one morning farmer Dale again appeared, 
and this time very smiling and gracious to Nelly. 

" Chatterbox," said he, " how would you like to ride 
home with me and stay awhile, until your mother gets 

22* 



258 MEMORIES. 

better? You can run about over there, and make all 
the noise you want to j nobody will mind it." 

Nelly could not tell whether she would like or not. 
It was very dull where she was, but she did not care to 
leave her poor mamma. Grandmamma, however, de- 
cided the matter by assuring her that Mrs. Grey needed 
perfect quiet, and would be better without her. So the 
little girl ran off to Maum Winnie to be dressed for her 
ride. 

Arrived at the farm-house, the kindness of the family, 
and the novelty of everything she saw, so charmed the 
child that for a while she was quite content. Little 
tasks were, by her own request, assigned to her, easy 
and pleasant, but seeming to the child of great conse- 
quence. But, in spite of all, homesickness attacked her; 
she grew weary of everything, and begged to be taken 
to her mamma. The kind farmer and his wife tried to 
turn her thoughts from the subject, telling her she could 
not go just then ; but day by day Nelly became more 
dissatisfied, the longing for home grew stronger, until, 
on the evening when this begins, she actually ran away. 
And now ^t us see what became of her. 

Once on the road, Nelly ran very fast, until, almost 
breathless, she found herself compelled to rest awhile in 
a little grove by the roadside. Scarcely had she seated 
herself upon the grass when the steady trot, trot of a 
horse was heard. She had barely time to hide behind 
a large tree when one of the farm-hands passed on his 
way from the mill. It seemed to Nelly that the slight 
rustle of the leaves under her feet must betray her, and 
the loud beatings of her heart be heard. But the bo}^ 
passed on, and soon his low whistle, as well as the 
measured beat of the horse's hoofs, grew fainter. 

However, all danger was not over, for just as she was 
about to venture forth, the panting of some animal 



NELLY. 259 

startled her. For a moment her terror was extreme. 
This changed to chagrin and vexation as Eover, the 
farmer's dog, ran to her hiding-place and fawned upon 
her. Having followed the farm-boy to the distant mill, 
the poor dog, growing weary with his long run, had 
fallen far behind. Now Eover and the little girl had 
been great friends, and had enjoyed many a romp to- 
gether, but just then his presence made her very cross ; 
so, seizing a large stick, she beat the poor fellow until 
he ran yelping away. 

Left alone once more, Nelly set off in the direction of 
town. Having often, in her rides with grandmamma, 
passed along the same road, she thought she knew the 
way ; but night was approaching. It appeared to the 
child that darkness must bring added danger. Besides, 
she would soon be missed at the farm, pursued, over- 
taken, and carried back. This dread gave her fresh 
courage, and again the young traveller walked rapidly 
on. Before she had gone far, a light wagon overtook 
her. In its driver she gladly recognized an old man 
who sometimes supplied her grandmamma with vege- 
tables. He drew up in great astonishment as Nelly 
called to him, but at her request allowed her to climb 
to the seat beside him. As they approached the town, 
the heart of the runaway began to sink; a sense of her 
disobedience, and the knowledge that it would add to 
the grief of her dear mother, and, perhaps, greatly dis- 
please grandmamma, oppressed her sorely. She decided 
that she could not face them just then. Begging the old 
man to put her down at the nearest corner, the unhappy 
little girl approached the house by a back entrance, and, 
concealed amid the shrubber}^, stood trembling and weep- 
ing. The lamps had been lighted, and from the windows 
of the dining-room a bright ray shone out upon the lawn, 
seeming almost to reach the place where the child was 



260 MEMORIES. 

hidden. Within was a pleasant little group gathered 
around the tea-table. To her great surprise, Nelly dis- 
covered her mother busily engaged in arranging upon a 
waiter covered with a white napkin a nice supper, while 
grandmamma added a cup of steaming tea. Winnie stood 
by as if waiting to carry supper to somebody, but Nelly 
was puzzled to know for whom it was intended. Just 
then, however, the gate-bell rang loudly. Winnie hur- 
riedly^ caught up the waiter and disappeared as the op- 
posite door opened to admit farmer Dale. His first 
words seemed greatly to disturb and alarm the ladies. 
G-randmamma quickly arose with a cry of grief and 
horror. Mrs. Grey stood motionless, her eyes fixed on 
the farmer's face, her hands pressed to her heart. 

Nelly could bear no more. Eushing impetuously into 
the house, she threw both her arms around her fright- 
ened mother, crying, — 

" Oh, mamma, grandmamma, I am not lost, but I have 
been so naughty. I wanted you so, and I ran away. Oh, 
let me stay ; please let me stay." 

The mother sank into a chair, her arms instinctively 
enfolding her naughty child, but she did not kiss or wel- 
come her. Grandmamma, too, looked very grave and 
troubled. After a few minutes of painful silence, the 
farmer took his leave, saying, — 

" I'll leave you to settle with the little one. I must 
make haste to relieve my wife's anxiety." 

After his departure, the penitent nestled more closely 
to her mother. She felt sure of her love and forgive- 
ness, and hoped that grandmamma might not be too 
severe, although she fully expected a good scolding and 
some kind of punishment besides, which she meant to 
bear quite meekly. To her surprise, neither mentioned 
her fault. Her mother seemed to be thinking of some- 
tb-ing else, and Nelly did not at all understand the queer 



NELLY. 261 

looks which passed between the ladies. At last Winnie 
put her head in the door, evidently to deliver some mes- 
sage, for she began, " Mars ," when Mrs. Grey started 

up suddenly, saying, — 

" Oh, Winnie, here is our Nelly," while the child sprang 
forward to throw herself on the breast of her astonished 
nurse. 

" De Lawd er Massy ! Whar dat chile cum from dis 
time o' nite?" 

"Why, Winnie," explained grandmamma, "she has 
run away from the farm, and here she is. Did you ever 
hear of such badness ?" 

" Dah, now !" cried the negro, " didn't I tole you dat ? I 

jest know dat chile wasn't gwine to stay nowhar 'dout her 

mar an' me. Po' chile, she look mity bad, 'deed she do." 

" Well, Winnie, never mind that now, she is only 

tired ; let her eat her supper and go to bed." 

Nelly had expected, at the very least, to be sent sup- 
perless to bed, but instead, grandma gave her all she 
could eat, and, but for the strange preoccupied manner 
which so puzzled her, the child would have been very 
comfortable. When, led by her mamma and attended 
by Winnie, she w^ent up-stairs she found that her couch 
had been removed into her grandmamma's room. " You 
will be better here," explained Mrs. G-rey, " for I am very 
restless and might disturb you." 

Nelly was just conscious of an unusual bustle in the 
passage outside, and of hearing voices and footsteps 
going up to the third story; but, too sleepy to pay 
attention, she soon ceased to hear anything. 

When she awoke the morning was far advanced, and 
her grandmamma was not in the room. While she lay 
thinking over the strange events of the day before, 
Maum Winnie appeared with some fresh, clean clothes 
upon her arm. 



262 MEMORIES. 

" Mornin', little missy," said she, pleasantly ; " is you 
gwine ter sleep all day ?" 

Kelly sprang up and was soon dressed. Eunning into 
her mamma's room, she found it all in order, the sweet 
wind and the morning sun coming in freely through the 
open windows. Mrs. Gre}', however, was not there; 
nor did she find her in the breakfast-room, where only 
grandmamma sat waiting to give the child her breakfast. 
Upon the sideboard stood a tray which had contained 
breakfast for somebody ; Nelly wondered who, and sud- 
denly asked, — 

" Is mamma sick ?" 

."No, she is quite well now," was the reply. 
. " Well, did she eat breakfast with you ?" 
"Yes." 

The child again glanced toward the sideboard, and at 
last asked plainly, — 

" Whose breakfast is that yonder, and who did you all 
send supper to last night?" 

" Nelly," said her grandmamma, sharply, "eat your 
breakfast, and ask no more questions. Little girls should 
be seen and not heard." 

The child obeyed, but remained curious, and deter- 
mined to find out the mystery, if she could. Soon her 
mother came in, kissed her affectionately, and stood for 
a few moments by her chair, smoothing back her curls 
just as she used to do. Nelly thought gladly of the 
happy day she would spend at her mother's side, but 
Mrs. Grey disappointed her by saying, — 

"My daughter, you must play as quietly as possible 
to-day, and don't run or romp near the house. I am far 
from well, and very nervous." 

The little girl, however, drew her mother out of the 
room upon the vine-shaded gallery, where they walked 
up and down for a few moments. But Mrs. Grey still 



NELLY. 263 

seemed ill at ease, and soon returned within the house. 
Then Nelly ran down the steps and across the lawn in 
search of her old playmates, the kittens and the puppy, 
visited the garden and summer-house, where she occu- 
pied herself in arranging a bouquet for her mamma. 
At last it seemed to her that it must be nearly twelve 
o'clock ; so returning to the house, and finding the lower 
rooms deserted, she wandered into the kitchen, where she 
found Maum "Winnie broiling some birds and preparing 
some nice toast, while near by upon the kitchen-table 
was a waiter ready to carry up the delicate lunch to 
somebody. Nelly at once began, — 

" Oh, Maum Winnie, who are those birds for ? "Where 
is the cook? "What are you in the kitchen cooking 
for?" 

"Winnie seemed wonderfully flurried and confused by 
all these questions, and Nelly was equally disconcerted 
at finding the old woman so cross. 

"Jes' listen to de chile!" cried Winnie. ""Wot you 
makin' all dis miration 'bout? I nebber seed nobody so 
inquisity as you is. De cook she dun leff, an' I's cookin' 
ontwill yer grandmar git somebody. Ef you don' be- 
lieb me, ax yer mar. Ennyhow, I's gwine to 'quaint 
yer mar with yer conduck, axin' so many perterment 
questions." 

" But, who are the birds for ?" persisted Nelly. " I 
know mamma never eats birds, and grandmamma isn't 
sick." 

" I 'clar, Miss Nelly, Fs outdone wid you. Gro outer 
heah, 'fore I calls yer grandmar." 

Nelly left, still very curious and dissatisfied. 

Having wandered about aimlessly for a while, the 
little girl at last strayed into the empty parlor, and 
there sat down to consider. Suddenly she heard a 
stealthy step upon the stairs. At the same time a faint 



264 MEMORIES. 

odor of broiled birds saluted her nostrils, l^elly crept 
softly to the door, just in time to see her grandma as- 
cending the flight of stairs leading to the third story. 
*' Now," thought the child, " I will find out what all this 
means." 

"Waiting until the old lady had passed out of sight in 
the corridor above, she stealthily followed. All the 
doors of the rooms in the third story were closed, but 
through an open transom came the sound of voices. 
Listening eagerly, she heard her mamma speaking, and 
in reply a voice which set her heart beating wildly and 
made her dizzy with surprise. In a moment she was 
vainly striving to open the locked door, screaming 
loudly, "Papa! oh, papa!" Instantly the door was 
opened, and she found herself dragged inside the room, 
her grandma's hand placed closely over her mouth, 
while her mother, in a hoarse whisper, said, " Nelly, for 
pity's sake hush, no one must know.'' Gazing about her 
with wildly-distended eyes, the frightened girl beheld, 
reclining in an easy-chair by the bedside, her dear papa, 
but, oh, so pale, so changed. A small table drawn 
closely to his side so as to project over the arm of the 
chair held a large pillow covered with oil-cloth, upon 
this lay one arm, which, with the shoulder, was entirely 
bare; just under the collar-bone appeared a frightful 
wound, over which Mrs. Grey was preparing to lay a 
linen cloth wet with cool water. Nelly gasped for 
breath and turned very white, but when her papa held 
out his well hand towards her with the old sweet smile 
she so well remembered, she ran to his side and nestled 
there, still trembling and sobbing, for she had been 
frightened, first by the rough treatment of her grandma, 
and yet more by the changed appearance of the dearly- 
loved father, who, as it seemed to her, must be dying. 
As further concealment was useless, Nelly was taken 



NELLY. 265 

into the confidence of the ladies, who, however, seemed 
almost in despair lest the child in some thoughtless 
manner should betray the secret so anxiously guarded. 

A short time before the visit to the farm a dreadful 
battle had been fought in Yirginia, not many miles from 
the State-line, near which stood the house of Nelly's 
grandma. It so happened that the regiment to which 
Mr. Grey belonged had participated in the fight, and at 
the conclusion he found himself badly wounded and a 
prisoner. Having been ill previous!}^, the wounded sol- 
dier was unable to be marched off with other prisoners, 
but was left, as all supposed, to die. The tide of battle 
rolled on, leaving the field where the fight began strewn 
with the dying and the dead. A blazing sun poured its 
intolerable light and heat upon the upturned faces and 
defenceless heads of hundreds of suffering, dying men, 
adding frightful tortures to the pain of their wounds. 
When the dews of night came to moisten parched lips, 
to cool aching brows, Mr. Grey managed to drag him- 
self to a stump near by, and placing his back against it, 
waited hoping to gain a little more strength. His mouth 
was parched and dry, but he had not a drop of water. 
Suddenly his eyes fell upon a canteen lying at no great 
distance, almost within reach of his hand ; with infinite 
pain and trouble he at last possessed himself of it. It 
was not quite empty, but just as Mr. Grey was about to 
drink, he heard a deep groan, and turning, met the 
imploring eyes of a Federal soldier. He was but a 
youth, and had been shot through the body and mor- 
tally wounded. His parched lips refused to speak, only 
the earnest eyes begged for water. Mr. Grey at once 
handed him the canteen, although he felt almost as if 
he would die for want of the water it contained. 
Eagerly the dying boy drank. It seemed as if he must 
take all, there was so very little, but after a swallow or 
M 23 



266 MEMORIES. 

two he resolutely handed it back, gasping, " God bless 

. Left you some." When the moon arose, its rays 

fell upon the dead young face of the boy in his gory 
blue, whose last words had been a blessing upon the 
wounded, exhausted soldier in gray sitting beside 
him. 

Later came help, — old men who, starting when the 
first news of the battle reached them, had ridden miles 
guided by the sound of the firing. Most of them were 
Marylanders, who had sent forth their sons to battle for 
the Confederate cause, and who now sought among the 
dead and dying with dim, anxious eyes for the loved 
faces they yet prayed not to find. Among them came 
farmer Dale, whose son was a Confederate soldier. 
Eagerly he examined the faces of those who lay upon 
the bloody field. All, however, were strange, until at 
last he came upon Mr. Grc}^. Carefully assisting him 
to reach an old cabin which stood near, he made the 
suffering man ^s comfortable as possible, then, without 
loss of time, set out to convey the news to Mrs. Grey. 
I^ow, it would seem that the very easiest thing would 
have been to carry the wounded soldier at once to the 
house of his wife's mother to be nursed and cared for, 
but it must be remembered that the Federal army had 
been shown in many ways that they were considered as 
invaders by the people of Maryland, and that their 
presence was obnoxious and hateful. They, on the 
other hand, considered all Southern sympathizers as 
traitors to their flag and their country. Every open 
expression of such feelings was severely punished. Had 
it been known that any Confederate soldier was harbored 
or concealed in any house within the Federal lines, the 
owners would have been arrested together with the sol- 
dier they had hidden, their house would probably have 
been burned. So it was necessary in the case of Mr. 



NELLF. 267 

Grey to observe great secrecy and to plan carefully his 
removal. 

My readers will remember that Nelly v^^as suddenly 
sent off to stay at the farm-house. Then Maum Winnie 
took occasion to pick a quarrel with the white servants, 
in which she succeeded so well that they both left in 
high displeasure. Shortly afterward, one dark night, 
Farmer Dale drove up to the carriage gate with a high- 
piled load of hay. There was a great deal of "geeing" 
and "hawing" and fuss, and then, instead of getting 
down, the fai'mer called out, — 

" Say, are you all asleep ?" 

At once Maum Winnie's voice was heard inquiring, — 

''Who dat?" 

" Hey, old girl, come down here and open the gate. 
I've brought your hay, but I got stalled on the way, 
and it's too late to put it up to-night. I'll have to drive 
the wagon in and leave it. I'll unload it in the morning." 

Maum Winnie shut the window, and«oon was heard 
shuffling along the carriage-road, grumbling to herself. 

" 'Fore de Lawd, I is plum wore out. I dun wuk sence 
sun-up, an' dere dat ar fodder fotch here jes' es I gwine 
ter lie down." 

This pretence of ill-humor was kept up until the wagon 
was well out of sight from the street and driven up under 
a shed close by the kitchen-door, when poor old Maum 
Winnie came up close and whispered, — 

" Is you brung Mars !N"ed shure 'nuff ? Oh, whar he ? 
tell Winnie whar he !" 

Just then the two ladies stole out from the house and 
came close to the wagon. Both seemed calm and self- 
possessed, save that the hurried breathing of Mrs. Grey 
showed her excitement. A light might have betrayed 
them, and they dared not run any risks. E'o time was 
now to be lost. Mr. Grey was, indeed, concealed among 



268 MEMORIES. 

the hay, and needed immediate attention, for the long 
ride had greatly increased the pain and fever of his 
wound. 

Slowly he crept out from his hiding-place, and, with 
the assistance of the farmer and Winnie, managed to 
reach an upper room, where he sank exhausted, yet 
with a contented sigh, on the comfortable bed which 
had been for days awaiting him. 

Under the loving care of the ladies and Maum Winnie 
he slowly improved. No one had suspected his pres- 
ence in the house until Nelly discovered him, as above 
related. 

Mr. Grey scarcely dared to hope that the little girl 
would be able to keep the secret, but all was explained 
to her. She was made to understand the extreme dan- 
ger to all concerned in case of discovery. The trust re- 
posed in her made the child feel quite womanly. Every 
day she became more helpful, a greater comfort to her 
anxious mamma, better able to assist in nursing. 

Weeks passed, bringing renewed health and strength 
to the soldier, who began to feel very anxious to rejoin 
his command. Various plans were discussed, but none 
appeared practicable. Rumors of an advance of the 
Confederate forces, and of an impending battle, became 
every day more like certainties. At last, one morning 
all were startled by the sound of heavy guns; later, 
volleys of musketr}^ could be plainly heard. Federal 
troops marched at double-quick through the town, on 
their way to the scene of strife. All day the fight 
raged. Sometimes the sound of firing would seem 
nearer, then farther off; at nightfall it ceased. When 
it became quite dark, Mr. Grey, bidding them all fare- 
well, hurriedly left the house, hoping to join some de- 
tachment of Confederates during the night, and to par- 
ticipate in the battle next day. 



NELLY. 269 

The next day was fought the battle of , which 

raged almost in sight of the town. Nelly was, of 
course, in a state of great alarm and excitement, but 
both her mamma and grandma were carefully prepar- 
ing the house for the reception of the wounded. Soon 
every room was occupied, and the ladies had their 
hands full in attending to them. On the second day a 
wounded Federal was brought to the house. While 
nursing him, Mrs. Grey learned that he was a private 

in the regiment commanded by Colonel , the officer 

who had so kindly assisted in her time of need. He 
told her that the colonel had been terribly wounded 
and carried to a hospital on the battle-field. Mrs. Grey 
at once determined to find him, and, if still alive, to do 
him all the good in her power. So, summoning farmer 
Dale, she rode with him to the hospital. Being an 

officer. Colonel was easily found. He had just 

suifered amputation of an arm, and was weak from loss 
of blood, but recognizing Mrs. Grey, smiled and seemed 
glad to see her. It was impossible to move him, but 
from that time he lacked nothing that could add to his 
comfort. Later, Nelly was allowed to visit him, fre- 
quently bringing flowers, and in many pleasant ways 
cheering his loneliness. 

Meanwhile the Confederate forces had swept on 
into Pennsylvania, but, alas, were forced back. When 
they returned to Yirginia, Mrs. Grey and Nelly went 
with them, for both preferred to risk all chances rather 
than to remain within the Federal lines, cut off from all 
communication with the husband and father who might 
at any time need their services. So they became " refu- 
gees," living as did thousands of homeless ones, as best 
they might. Maum Winnie having proved her skill 
as a nurse, found plenty of employment. Her wages, 
added to the little Mrs. Grey could earn by her needle, 

23^ 



270 MEMORIES. 

kept them from absolute want. At last came the sad 
day of " the surrender." 

Nelly was yet too young to understand the sorrow 
and despair of her mother, nor could she refrain from 
exceeding wonder when one day Mr. Grey appeared, 
looking like an old and haggard man, and without a 
greeting to his wife and child, tottered to a seat, throw- 
ing his arms upon the table, burying his face within 
them, while he moaned and sobbed as only a man can. 
Kneeling by his side, his wife tried to soothe and com- 
fort him, but although he was able at last to restrain his 
grief, it was many a day before he was seen to smile. 

There was nothing left for the impoverished family 
but to return to the old Virginia home, and try to make 
the best of it. They were compelled to travel as best 
they could, sometimes walking many miles, sometimes 
taking advantage of a passing wagon. At last one even- 
ing, just as the sun was setting, they approached the 
home-place, once a blooming paradise, now a desert 
waste. The cabin of Maum Winnie with a few of the 
servants' houses were still standing, but deserted and 
desolate. Doors, log fireplaces, etc., had been torn down 
for firewood, and in many places patches of charred 
wood, or dead embers, showed where camp-fires had 
been lighted. The little garden in front of Maum Win- 
nie's cabin, made and carefully tended by " de ole man," 
was a wilderness of weeds among which flowers of rank 
growth still struggled for a place. Where the chimneys 
of the " house" still stood, and all over the half-burned 
trunks of once beautiful trees crept and clung sickly- 
looking vines, springing from the roots which had once 
nourished a luxuriant growth and were not wholly dead. 

As Mr. Grey surveyed the scene, a deep groan burst, 
from his lips; but the wife laid her hand upon his 
shoulder, saying, " Courage, dear, we will make a home 



NELLY. 271 

even here." Maum Winnie here stepped to the front, 
briskly leading the way to the little cabin, followed by 
Nelly, who, child-like, entered readily into any plan that 
promised to be novel and exciting. Everything of value 
had been carried off, but a few chairs and a bed with a 
shuck mattress remained, together with a few pots and 
pans. The fireplaces were also ready for use. "Winnie 
soon had a cheerful fire, while ]!Telly set out on the top 
of a box the remains of the rations they had brought 
along, and which with some steaming coffee of parched 
corn formed the evening meal. 

Ten years later a plain but tasteful cottage occupied 
the site of the ruined home. Fast-growing vines were 
doina: their best to rival the luxuriant folia2;e which 
once almost hid the old house. A well-kept garden per- 
fumed the air and delighted the eye. Fields ripe for 
the harvest occupied the land where the negro cabins 
had stood, forming an effective background to the 
newly-repaired and whitewashed house of Maum Win- 
nie, which stood, a pleasant feature of this scene of 
peace and plenty, its fences intact, posies blooming as 
of old. On the little porch sat the old woman, dozing 
over her knitting. The gallery of the house was occu- 
pied by a family group, who were enjoying the fresh 
coolness of the evening out of doors. Mrs. Grey sat 
upon the upper steps arranging some flowers, which 
were supplied to her as she called for them by a lovely 
boy, who had just brought his apron full of them. 
Nelly, swinging in a hammock, was a picture of lazy 
enjoyment. The attention of all was attracted by the 
sound of wheels, which ceased as a carriage drove up 
containing a gentleman and lady, and a young lady 
who sat by the driver (an old negro who was often em- 
ployed as a driver and guide by strangers). Nelly ran 
down to the gate, followed by her mother. The gentle- 



272 MEMORIES. 

man had by this time descended. One glance at the 
empty sleeve was enough, even if the kindly face had 

not been so little changed. It was Colonel , who, 

having business in Eichmond, had "stopped off" at the 
wayside station for a few hours, that he might endeavor 
to find the Greys, and introduce to his wife and daughter 
the kind friends who had so faithfully nursed him when 
wounded, and also show them the scene of incidents 
often related to them. 

The ladies having been introduced, the strangers 
accepted a cordial invitation to alight. While they 
were chatting pleasantly upon the vine-shaded gallery, 
Mr. Grey rode into the yard upon a strong-looking 
white mule. The greeting of the soldiers was courteous 
and pleasant. The contrast between them was striking 
indeed. 

The one clad elegantly and fashionably, his shirt-front 
blazing with diamond studs, his hair and beard luxuri- 
ant and carefully kept. The pleasant eyes untroubled 
and smiling. The other in the plain garb of one who 
must earn his bread, coarse but scrupulously neat. The 
face bronzed from exposure, the hair damp with the 
sweat of toil, and yet, when the brown, hardened hand 
of the Yirginia gentleman met the white clasp of the 
rich man of the North, Mr. Grey lost nothing by com- 
parison. Colonel having laughingly inquired after 

Maum Winnie, the whole party repaired to her cabin. 
The old woman received her guests with stately polite- 
ness, holding her turbaned head high, as she majestically 
stalked before them to show, at their request, her 
chickens, ducks, and pigs. She omitted nothing that 
was due to her visitors, but there was a strained polite- 
ness, and a rolling of her eyes toward them, which made 
Mrs. Grey uneasy and quite prepared her for what fol- 
lowed. While Colonel was in the act of saying 



NELLY. 273 

something which he thought would quite win the old 
creature's heart, she looked up at him over her glasses, 
saying,— 

" Yer ain't seen nuffin er dat ar fedder-bed yet, is yer ? 
Ease ole Miss she dun giv' me dat ar bed too long to 
talk about, an' ebery one ob dem fedders was ris rite 
on dis yere place. 'Fore de Lawd, if ole Miss know 
I dun loss dat ar bed she gwine ter rise rite outen de 
grabe." 

Colonel , remembering the scene of the disaster 

to Winnie's feather-bed, felt inclined to laugh heartily, 
but wishing to moUify the old creature preserved his 
gravity while he offered her quite a handsome sum "to 
buy some more feathers." A look from Mr. Grey put a 
stop to the old woman's talk. Soon the visitors took 
their leave, having given and received most pleasant im- 
pressions. Their visit recalled so vividly their time of 
trial and adventure that the Greys sat talking far into 
night. 

The next morning Mr. Grey walked over to the cabin 
to administer a rebuke to Maum Winnie. As he drew 
near the gate the quavering voice of the old woman was 
heard singing jerkily, and with a pause between every 
few words, — 

*' Alc?o yer sees me gwine 'long so, 
I has my troubles heah below. " 

At last, discovering Mr. Grey, she rose and dropped a 
courtesy. 

" Mornin', Mars Ned." 

" Well, Winnie, you forgot your Virginia raising yes- 
terday. What is all this about your feather-bed ?" 

" Well, Mars Ned, dey dun stole it." 

" Who stole it ?" 

" Bah, honey, de Lawd only knows, an' he ain't gwine 



274 MEMORIES. 

ter tell. I dun loss it anyhow, an' my pore ole bones 
mity sore sleepin' on dem shucks." 

Mr. Grey, finding that the old creature's grievance was 
very real to her, refrained from scolding, and, passing 
out through the little flower-garden, proceeded to the 
stable to feed the stock, a piece of work which before 
the war had employed many hands, but which now was 
performed by himself, assisted only by one negro man. 

Upon the summer air rang the sweet voice of Nelly 
as she sang at her work. In the scented garden Mrs. 
Grey with her little boy weeded and trimmed and twined 
the lovely flowers, feeling really a greater delight in the 
fruit of their labor than if they had no real acquaintance 
with the flowers, but only received them from the hands 
of a gardener. 

Dear reader, we must now say farewell to our [N'elly. 
Let us hope that the clouds which darkened her child- 
hood and early youth have passed never to return, and 
that although "into each life some rain must fall," her 
rainy days may be few and far between. 



CHAPTER 11. 

BRAVE BOYS. 

I BELIEVE I may safely say that no cause ever fought 
for, no army ever raised, numbered among its adherents 
and soldiers so many mere hoys as rallied around " The 
Bonnie Blue Flag," bringing to its defence the ardor 
of youth, added to unquestioning loyalty and Spartan 
bravery. Aye, more wonderful, more worthy of admira- 
tion than the bravery of the Spartan youth, because 
our Southern boys had, up to the beginning of the war, 
known nothing of hardship or danger. Yet they met 
with splendid courage all that fell to their lot as sol- 
diers, fighting with an impetuosity and determination 
which equalled that of the oldest veterans. My book 
contains already many instances of lofty courage and 
patient endurance as shown by boys. I will add one or 
two incidents worthy of record. 

In one of the companies of the Third Lee Battalion 
was a bright Irish boy named Elannagan, who had 
been brought to Yirginia by one of the oflScers as his 
attendant. During the seven days' fight around Eich- 
mond this child, having procured a small shot-gun, 
fought with the best of them, coming out safe and 
sound. I learned this little history from a soldier who 
knew the boy. Flannagan now lives in Texas. 

It is well known that the boys of the Yirginia Uni- 
versity did excellent service under " Stonewall" Jackson. 
Here is a story of some other school-boys, related to me 

275 



276 MEMORIES. 

by their teacher, himself a brave soldier who lost an 
arm in one of the battles around Eichmond. 

When Wilson's raiders reached Charlotte County, 
Virginia, preparations were made by the Home Guards, 
aided by a few veterans who happened to be home on 
furlough, to check their further progress. Breastworks 
were thrown up on the south side of Stanton Eiver, the 
railroad bridge was blockaded, and a gun placed in 
position to defend the passage. Colonel Coleman, who 
was at home on furlough, gave it as his opinion that 
these precautions must be supplemented and supported 
by rifle-pits on the north side, or no successful defence 
could be made. The pits were hastily dug, but, when 
volunteers were called for, the extreme danger pre- 
vented a hearty response. Kone appeared except a 
few old soldiers and six or seven school-boys, whose 
ages ranged from fourteen to sixteen. The Yankees 
advanced in line, in an open plain, about two thousand 
strong. A rapid fire was opened from the rifle-pits and 
from the gun on the railroad bridge. 

After a few minutes the enemy retired, reformed, and 
came on again, but were again routed as before. Al- 
though the boys held a place where many a veteran 
would have quailed, they stood their ground nobly, and 
did a soldier's duty. 

After the fight was over, two of them had a quarrel 
regarding a Federal officer whom both shot at and both 
claimed to have kUled. 

These were Yirginia boys, the sons of veterans, and 
attending a local school. 

The raid came to grief soon after, being routed by 
Fitz-Hugh Lee. 

Thomas Hilton, of Uniontown, Alabama, volunteered 



BRAVE BO VS. 277 

in the " Witherspoon Guards," Twenty-first Alabama 
Eegiment, at the tender age of fourteen. He was too 
small to carry a musket, and was detailed as a drummer 
boy. At the battle of Shiloh he threw away his drum 
and so importuned his captain for a gun that it was 
given him. 

Shortly after, while in the thick of the fight, he was 
shot through the face, the ball entering one side and 
passing out at the other. 

Rev. N. I. Witherspoon (chaplain of the regiment) 
found him lying upon the ground, bleeding to death as 
he then supposed, and knelt beside him to pra}^ To his 
surprise the boy looked up, the fire in his eyes un- 
quenched, and gasped out while the blood gushed afresh 
at every word, — 

" Yes — chaplain — I'm — badly hurt — but — I'm — not — 
whipped^ 

Thomas Hilton still lives in Uniontown, Alabama, 
respected by all who know him. His fellow-citizens 
regard the ugly scar which still appears upon his face 
with pride and reverence. 

The battle of Mansfield, Louisiana, was one of the 
most hotly-contested and bloody of the war, the loss in 
men and officers being terrific. The tide of battle rolled 
on, through lofty pine forests, amid tangled under- 
growth, and over open fields, where the soldiers were 
exposed a to storm of shot and shell, and where, on that 
beautiful Sunday morning, hundreds of the dead and 
dying strewed the ground. While the battle was at its 
height it became necessary, in order to secure concerted 
action, to send dispatches to a certain point. The only 
way lay across a ploughed field, exposed to a terrific 
fire from the enemy, whose target the messenger would 
become : and it seemed as if certain death must be the 

24 



278 MEMORIES. 

fate of any one who should attempt to run the gauntlet. 
And yet the necessity was met. A boy of eighteen years 
stepped forth from the ranks of Company Gr, Crescent 
Eegiment, Louisiana Yolunteers, and offered to perform 
this dangerous service. 

Dashing on through a perfect hail of shot and shell, 
stumbling and falling over the furrowed ground, strug- 
gling up and on again, he passed unharmed, successfully 
executing his mission. His escape was so miraculous 
that one can only account for it by the belief that God 
gave his angels charge concerning him. 

The name of this valiant boy — James Y. Nolan — 
should live in history. He still lives, and has been for 
years secretary of the Cotton Exchange at Shreveport, 
Louisiana. 



CHAPTEE III. 

THE YOUNG COLOR-BEARER. 

The story of " The Little Apron" was written up by 
Major McDonald, of Louisville, to be read at a meeting 
of veterans of Association Army of Northern Virginia, 
Kentucky Division. It is true in every particular, — 
indeed, a matter of history. 

I have given it a place here because I feel sure that 
many of my young readers will remember having seen 
the apron in question, and will like to read its full his- 
tory. It was very kindly loaned to me, during the New 
Orleans Exposition, by Major McDonald, and was on ex- 
hibition at my tent ("The Soldiers' Eest"), among many 
other Confederate relics, where it never ceased to be an 
object of profound interest and veneration. Hundreds 
of people handled it. Yeterans gazed upon it with 
moistened eyes. Women bedewed it with tears, and 
often pressed kisses upon it. Children touched it 
reverently, listening with profound interest while its 
story was told. The little apron was of plain white 
cotton, bordered and belted with "turkey red," — an 
apron of " red, white, and red," purposely made of these 
blended colors in order to express sympathy with the 
Confederates. It yet bears several blood-stains. The 
button-hole at the back of the belt is torn out, for the 
eager little patriot did not wait to unbutton it. There 
is another hole, just under the belt in front, made when 
the wounded boy tore it from the staff to which he had 
nailed it to conceal it in his bosom. The story as told 
by Major McDonald is as follows ; 

279 



280 MEMORIES. 

In the spring of 1863, while the Array of Northern 
Virginia was encamped on the Eapidan Eiver, preparing 
for that memorable campaign which included the battle 
of Gettysburg, there came to it, from Hampshire County, 
Virginia, a beardless boy, scarcely eighteen years of age, 
the eldest son of a widowed mother. His home was 
within the enemy's lines, and he bad walked more than 
one hundred miles to offer his services to assist in repel- 
ling a foe which was then preying upon the fairest por- 
tions of his native State. He made application to join 
Company D, Eleventh Virginia Cavalry, which was 
made up principally from his county, and, therefore, 
contained many of his acquaintances, and seemed much 
surprised when told that the Confederate government 
did not furnish its cavalry with horses and equijoments. 
Some members of the company present, who noticed his 
earnestness and the disappointment caused by this an- 
nouncement from the officer, said, — 

" Enroll him, captain ; we will see that he has a horse 
and equipments the next fight we get into." 

On faith of this promise he was enrolled, — James 
M. Watkins, Company D, Eleventh Virginia Cavalry, 
Jones's Brigade. Shortly afterward the campaign 
opened with the fight at Brandy Station, in which 
twenty thousand cavalry were engaged from daylight 
to sundown. Before the battle was over Watkins, 
mounted and fully equipped, took his place with his 
company. It was not long after this engagement that 
General Lee advanced the whole army, and crossed 
into Maryland, "Watkins's command covering the rear. 
During the battle of Gettysburg, on the 3d and 4th of 
July, we were engaged several times with the enemy's 
cavalry on our right, upon which occasions he was 
always found in the front, and while on the march was 
ever bright and cheerful. 



THE YOUNG COLOR-BEARER. 281 

On the evening of the 4th, General Lee, in preparation 
for his retreat, began to send his wagons to the rear in 
the direction of Williamsport, when it was found that 
the enemy's cavalry had gone around our left and taken 
possession of a pass in South Mountain, through which 
lay our line of march. To dislodge them required a 
stubborn fight, lasting late into the night, in which 
General Jones's brigade was engaged, and he himself, 
becoming separated from his men in the darkness, was 
supposed to have been captured or killed. 

Finally the Federals were repulsed, and the wagon- 
train proceeded on its way to Williamsport. In the 
morning "Watkins's command was ordered to march on 
the left flank of the train to prevent a renewal of the 
attack upon it, and on approaching Hagerstown those 
in the rear of the column heard loud and repeated cheer- 
ing from the men in front. After having been in an 
enemy's country fighting night and day, in rain and 
mud, those cheers came to those who heard them in the 
distance as the first rays of sunshine after a storm. 
Many were the conjectures as to their cause : some said 
it was fresh troops from the other side of the Potomac ; 
others that it was the ammunition-wagons, for the sup- 
ply was known to be short ; while others surmised that 
it was General Jones reappearing after his supposed 
death or capture. Whatever the cause was, its effect 
was wonderful upon the morale of those men, and cheers 
went up all along the line from those who did not know 
the cause in answer to those who did. When the com- 
mand had reached a stone mill, about three miles south- 
east of Hagerstown, they found the cause only a little 
girl about fourteen years of age, perhaps the miller's 
daughter, standing in the door wearing an apron in 
which the colors were so blended as to represent the 
Confederate flag. A trivial thing it may seem to those 

24* 



282 MEMORIES. 

who were not there, but to those jaded, war-worn men 
it was the first expression of sympathy for them and 
their cause that had been openly given them since they 
had crossed the Potomac, and their cheers went up in 
recognition of the courage of the little girl and her 
parents, who thus dared to give their sympathy to a 
retreating army, almost in sight of a revengeful foe. 
When Company D was passing the house the captain 
rode up and tlnanked the little girl for having done so 
much to revive the spirits of the troops, and asked her 
if she would give him a piece of the apron as a souvenir 
of the incident. "Yes, certainly," she rej)lied, "you 
may have it all," and in her enthusiasm she tore it off, 
not waiting to unbutton it, and handed it to the officer, 
who said it should be the flag of his company as long 
as it was upon Maryland soil. 

"Let me be the color-bearer, captain," said young 
Watkins, who was by his side; "I promise to protect 
it with my life." Fastening it to a staff he resumed his 
place at the head of the company, which was in the front 
squadron of the regiment. 

Later in the evening, in obedience to an order brought 
by a courier, the Eleventh Cavalry moved at a gallop 
in the direction of Williamsport, whence the roll of 
musketry and report of cannon had been heard for some 
time, and, rejoining the brigade, was engaged in a des- 
perate struggle to prevent the Federal cavalry from 
destroying the wagons of the whole army, which, the 
river being unfordable, were halted and parked at this 
point, their principal defence against the whole cavalry 
force of the enemy being the teamsters and stragglers that 
General Imboden had organized. The Eleventh Cavalry 
charged the battery in front of them, this gallant boy 
with his apron flag riding side by side with those who 
led the charge. The battery was taken and retaken, 



THE YOUNG COLOR-BEARER. 283 

and then taken again, before the Federals withdrew 
from the field, followed in the direction of Boonsboro', 
until darkness covered their retreat. In those desperate 
surges many went down on both sides, and it was not 
until after it was over that men thought of their com- 
rades and inquiries were made of the missing. The 
captain of Company D, looking over the field for the 
killed and wounded, found young "Watkins lying on the 
ground, his head supported by the surgeon. In reply to 
his question, "was he badly hurt?" he answered, "!N"ot 
much, captain, but Ive got tJieflag!" and, putting his 
hand in his bosom, he drew out the little apron and gave 
it to the officer. When asked how it came there, he 
said that when he was wounded and fell from his horse 
the Federals were all around him, and to prevent them 
from capturing it he had torn it from the staff and hid 
it in his bosom. 

The surgeon told the captain, aside, that his leg was 
shattered by a large piece of shell, which was imbedded 
in the bone ; that amputation would be necessary, and 
he feared the wound was mortal. " But," he added, '' he 
has been so intent upon the safe delivery of that apron 
into your hands as to seem utterly unconscious of his 
wound." 

After parting with his flag the brave boy sank rapidly. 
He was tenderly carried by his comrades back to Hagers- 
town, where a hospital bad been established, and his leg 
amputated. The next morning his captain found him pale 
and haggard from suffering. By his side was a bouquet 
of flowers, placed by some kind friend, which seemed to 
cheer him much. The third day afterward he died, and 
was buried in a strange land, by strangers' hands, with- 
out a stone to mark the place where he sleeps. 

Thus ended the mortal career of this gallant youth, 
who had scarcely seen sixty days' service ; but though 



284 MEMORIES. 

he lies in an unknown grave, he has left behind a name 
which should outlast the most costly obelisk that wealth 
or fame can erect. Gentle as a woman, yet perfectly 
fearless in the discharge of his duty, so sacred did he 
deem the trust confided to him that he forgot even his own 
terrible sufferings while defending it. Such names as 
this it is our duty to rescue from oblivion, and to write on 
the page of history, where the children of our common 
country may learn from them lessons of virtue and self- 
sacrifice. In his character and death he was not isolated 
from many of his comrades : he was but a type of many 
men, young and old, whose devotion to what is known 
as the " lost cause" made them heroes in the fullest ac- 
ceptation of the term, flinching from neither suffering 
nor death itself if coming to them in the line of duty. 



CHAPTEE lY. 

BRAVERY HONORED BY A FOB. 

The following story was written out for me by Eddie 
Souby, of New Orleans, while I was acting as assistant 
editress of the Southern Bivouac. 

It was related to him by his father, E. J. Souby, Esq., 
formerly a gallant soldier of the Fifth Eegiment, Hay's 
Brigade, and now an honored member of Association 
Army of Northern Virginia, Louisiana Division. It is a 
true story in every particular, and the name of the youth- 
ful hero is given, that it may live in our hearts, and 
be honored as it deserves, 'though he who so nobly bore 
it is now dead. I wish that I could also give the name 
of his generous foe, — no doubt as brave as generous, — 
the Federal officer who interposed his authority to pre- 
serve the life of this gallant boy. They should be re- 
corded, side by side, on the same page of history, and 
be remembered with pride by the youth of our land, no 
matter whether their fathers wore the blue or the gray 
during the late civil war. 

Nathan Cunningham was the name of this young hero. 
He was a member of the Second Company Orleans Cadets, 
afterwards Company E, Fifth Eegiment, Louisiana Yol- 
unteers, Hay's Brigade, Army of Northern Virginia, and 
color-bearer of the regiment at the time the incident nar- 
rated below occurred. The story is as follows : 

It was a dark and starless night. Tattoo-beat had 
long been heard, and Hay's Brigade, weary after a long 
day's march, rested beneath the dewy boughs of gigan- 

286 



286 MEMORIES. 

tic oaks in a dense forest near the placid Kappahannock. 
No sound broke the stillness of the night. The troops 
were lying on nature's rude couch, sweetly sleeping, per- 
haps, little dreaming of the awful dawn which was soon 
to break upon them. The camp-fires had burned low. 
The morrow's rations had been hastily cooked, hunger 
appeased, and the balance laid carefully away ; but that 
which was most essential to life had, unfortunately, been 
neglected. No provision for water had been made. The 
springs being somewhat distant from the camp, but few 
had spirit, after the day's weary march, to go farther. 
The canteens were, for the most part, empty. 

Though thirsting, the tired soldiers slept, oblivious to 
their physical sufferings. But ere the morning broke, 
the distant sound of musketry echoed through the 
woods, rudely dispelling the solemn silence of the night, 
and awakening from their broken dreams of home and 
kindred the whole mass of living valor. 

The roll of the drum and the stentorian voice of the 
gallant chief calling to arms mingled together. Aroused 
to duty, and groping their way through the darkness, 
the troops sallied forth in battle array. 

In a rifle-pit, on the brow of a hill overlooking the 
river, near Fredericksburg, were men who had exhausted 
their ammunition in the vain attempt to check the ad- 
vancing column of Hooker's finel}^ equipped and disci- 
plined army, which was crossing the river. But owing 
to the heavy mist which prevailed as the morning broke, 
httle or no execution had been done. To the relief of 
these few came the brigade in double-quick time. But 
no sooner were they intrenched than the firing on the 
opposite side of the river became terrific, and the con- 
stant roaring of musketry and artillery became appalling. 

Undismayed, however, stood the little band of veterans, 
pouring volley after volley into the crossing column. 



BRAVERY HONORED BY A FOE. 287 

Soon many soldiers fell. Their agonizing cries, as 
they lay helpless in the trenches, calling most piteously 
for water, caused many a tear to steal down the cheeks 
of their comrades in arms, and stout hearts shook in the 
performance of their duty. 

" Water 1" "Water I" But, alas! there was none to 
give. 

Eoused as they had been from peaceful dreams to 
meet an assault so early and so unexpected, no time 
was left them to do aught but buckle on their armor. 

"Boys!" exclaimed a lad of eighteen, the color-bearer 
of one of the regiments, " I can't stand this any longer. 
My nature can't bear it. They want water, and water 
they must have. So let me have a few canteens, and 
I'll go for some." 

Carefully laying the colors, which he had conspicu- 
ously borne on many a field, in the trench, he leaped 
out in search of water, and was soon, owing to the 
heavy mist, out of sight. 

Shortly afterwards the firing ceased for a while, and 
there came a courier with orders to fall back to the 
main line, a distance of over twelve hundred yards- to 
the rear. It had, doubtless, become evident to General 
Lee that Hooker had crossed the river in sufficient force 
to advance. 

The retreating column had not proceeded far when it 
met the noble youth, his canteens all filled with water, 
returning to the sufferers, who were still lying in the 
distant trenches. The eyes of the soldier-boy, who had 
oftentimes tenderly and lovingly gazed upon the war- 
worn and faded flag floating over the ranks, now saw it 
not. The troops, in their hurry to obey orders and 
owing, probably, to the heavy mist that surrounded 
them, had overlooked or forgotten the colors. 

On sped the color-bearer back to the trenches to re- 



288 MEMORIES. 

lieve the thirst of his wounded companions as well as 
to save the honor of his regiment by rescuing its colors. 

His riiission of mercy was soon accomplished. The 
wounded men drank freely, thanked and blessed him. 
And now to seize the flag and double-quick back to his 
regiment was the thought and act of a moment. But 
hardly had he gone ten paces from the ditch when a 
company of Federal soldiers appeared ascending the 
hill. The voice of an officer sternly commanded him to 
" Halt and surrender !" The morning sun, piercing with 
a lurid glare the dense mist, reveals a hundred rifles 
levelled at his breast. One moment more and his soul is 
to pass into eternity, for his answer is, " Xever while I 
hold these colors." 

But why is he not fired upon ? Why do we still see 
him with the colors flying above his head, now beyond 
the reach of rifle-balls, when but a moment before he 
could have been riddled with bullets ? And now, see ! 
he enters proudly but breathlessly the ranks, and re- 
ceives the congratulations of his friends in loud acclaim. 

The answer comes, because of the generous act of the 
Federal officer in command of that company. When 
this noble officer saw that the love of honor was far 
dearer to the j^outh than life, in the impulse of a mag- 
nanimous heart he freely gave him both in the word of 
command, — 

" Bring back your pieces, men ! don't shoot that brave 
boy!" 

Such nobility of character and such a generous nature 
as that displayed by this officer, must ever remain a 
living monument to true greatness; and should these 
lines perchance meet his eyes, let him know and feel 
the proud satisfaction that the remembrance of his noble 
deed is gratefully cherished, and forever engraved in the 
heart of the soldier-boy in gray. 



CHAPTEE Y. 

SALLY'S RIDE. 

On a bright Sunday morning Sally sat upon the gallery 
of her uncle's house slowly swaying backward and for- 
ward in a low rocking-chair. In her hand was her 
prayer-book, but I greatly fear she had not read as she 
ou2:ht, for while her finder was held between the shut 
covers, marking " the Psalms for the day," her bright 
eyes wandered continually over the lovely scene before 
her. Above her head branches of tender green were 
tossing merrily in the March wind, at her feet lay a 
parterre bright with spring buds and flowers. Beyond 
the garden-fence the carriage-road described a curve, and 
swept away under the lofty pines which here bounded 
the view. On either side lay fields of newly-planted 
cotton. Behind the houSe, seen through the wide-open 
doors and windows, the orchard gleamed pink and white. 
Still beyond, blue smoke curled upward from the cabins 
of the negroes in " the quarter," — almost a village in 
itself. The noise of their children at play was borne 
upon the wind, mingled with the weird chanting of 
hymns by the older negroes. The family, with the 
exception of Sally, had gone to church, — a distance of 
twelve miles. 

For weeks it had been known that " Wilson's raiders" 
would be likely at any time to appear; but continued 
security had lulled the apprehensions of the planters 
hereabouts, and, besides, they depended upon Confeder- 
ate scouts to give timely warning. But suddenly on 
this peaceful Sunday a confused noise from the direction 
N t 25 289 



290 MEMORIES. 

of " the quarter" startled Sally, and directly a crowd 
of frightened negroes ran to the house with the tale 
that a party of scouts had been driven in, reporting the 
Yankees approaching and only ten miles away. 

The sense of responsibility which at once took posses- 
sion of the girl's mind overmastered her terror. She, 
as well as a few servants considered worthy of trust, 
had received clear instructions how to act in such 
an emergency; but before anything could be accom- 
plished a part}^ of horsemen (Confederates) rode up, 
and hastily giving information that the Federals had 
taken the "Pleasant Hill road," dashed off again. 
This knowledge did not relieve Sally's mind, however, 
for on the Pleasant Hill road lay the fine plantation of 

another uncle. Dr. , who was, she knew, absent. 

The overseer, unaware of the approach of the raiders, 
would, unless warned, not have time to run off the 
valuable horses. By the road the enemy had taken 
the distance was several miles, but there was a " short 
cut" through the woods, which would bring a rapid 
rider to the plantation much' sooner, and at once it 
occurred to our heroine to send a boy on the only avail- 
able animal, an old white mule, which had long enjoyed 
exemption from all but light work as a reward for faith- 
ful services in the past. Alas! Sally found she had 
" reckoned without her" — negro. Abject terror had over- 
come even the habitual obedience of the servants, and 
not one would venture; they only rolled their eyes 
wildly, breaking forth into such agony of protestations 
that the girl ceased to urge them, and, dismayed at the 
peril she was powerless to arrest, sat down to consider 
matters. She knew that the family had that morning 
driven to church, and so the carriage-horses were safe 
for the present. 

But there was the doctor's buggy-horse, a magnificent 



SALLY S RIDE. 291 

iron-gray, and Persimmon, her cousin's riding- horse, a 
beautiful cream-colored mare with black, flowing mane 
and tail, and Green Persimmon, her colt, which was 
like its mother, and scarcely less beautiful. Besides, 
there were horses and mules which, if not so orna- 
mental, were indispensable. Oh, these must be run off 
and saved, — but how ? Goaded by these thoughts, and 
upon the impulse of the moment, the girl ordered a side- 
saddle to be put upon old " Whitey," and, hastily mount- 
ing, belabored the astonished beast until, yielding to the 
inevitable, he started off at a smart trot. 

Once in the woods, Sally's heart quailed within her ; 
her terror was extreme. The tramp, tramp of her 
steed she thought was as loud as thunder, and felt sure 
that thus she would be betrayed. The agitation of the 
underbrush caused by the wind seemed to her to denote 
the presence of a concealed enemy. She momentarily 
expected a " Yank" to step from behind a tree and seize 
her bridle. As she rushed along, hanging branches 
(which at another time she would have stooped to avoid) 
severely scratched her face and dishevelled her hair; but 
never heeding, she urged on old Whitey until he really 
seemed to become inspired with the spirit of the occa- 
sion, to regain his youthful fire, and so dashed on until 
at length Sally drew rein at the bars of the horse- 
lot, where the objects of her solicitude were quietly 
grazing, with the exception of G-reen Persimmon, who 
seemed to be playing a series of undignified capers for 
the amusement of her elders. To catch these was a 
work of time : Sally looked on in an agony of impa- 
tience. Eut, forunately, a neighbor rode up just then 
with the news that for some unknown reason the Fed- 
eral soldiers had, after halting awhile just beyond the 
forks of the road, marched back to the river and were 
recrossing. "With the usual inconsistency of her sex, 



292 MEMORIES. 

Sally now began to cry, trembling so violently that 
she was fain to dismount, and submit to be coddled 
and petted awhile by the old servants. She declared 
that she never could repass those dreadful woods, but 
later, a sense of duty overcame her nervousness, and 
(the family having returned), escorted by her cousins 
and followed by a faithful servant, she returned to her 
anxious friends, who in one breath scolded her for hav- 
ing dared so great risks and in the next praised her 
courage and devotion. 

The visit of the raiders was, alas ! not long delayed, 
but its attendant horrors may not here be described. 
The terrible story may, perhaps, be told at another time, 
— for the present, adieu. 



CHAPTEE YL 

The following story, originally written by me for the 
Southern Bivouac^ is strictly true. The successful for- 
ager was once a patient of mine, and is well known to 
me. I also know that he perpetrated the joke as de- 
scribed. The article is intended to appear as if written 
by a soldier's son. 

HIGH PRICE FOR NEEDLES AND THREAD. 
By Walter. 

My father was once a private soldier in the Confederate 
army, and he often tells us interesting stories of the 
war. One morning, just as he was going down town, 
mother sent me to ask him to change a dollar. He 
could not do it, but he said, — 

" Ask your mother how much change she wants." 

She only wanted a dime to buy a paper of needles and 
some silk to mend my jacket. So I went back and asked 
for ten cents. Instead of taking it out of his vest-pocket, 
father opened his pocket-book and said, — 

" Did you say you wanted ten dollars or ten cents^ my 
boy ?" 

" Why, father," said I, " whoever heard of paying ten 
dollars for needles and thread ?" 

" 1 have," said he. " I once heard of a paper of needles, 
and a skein of silk, worth more than ten dollars." 

His eyes twinkled and looked so pleasant that I knew 
there was a story on hand, so I told mother and sis' Loo, 
who promised to find out all about it. After supper 
that night mother coaxed father to tell us the story. 

25* 293 



294 MEMORIES, 

We liked it ever so much : so I got mother to write it 
down for the Bivouac. 

After the battle of Chickamauga, one of " our mess" 
found a needle-case which had belonged to some poor 
fellow, probably among the killed. He did not place 
much value upon the contents, although there was a 
paper of No. 8 needles, several buttons, and a skein or 
two of thread, cut at each end and neatly braided so 
that each thread could be smoothly drawn out. He put 
the whole thing in his breast-pocket, and thought no 
more about it. But one day, while out foraging for 
himself and his mess, he found himself near a house 
where money could have procured a fine meal of fried 
chicken, corn-pone, and buttermilk, besides a small 
supply to carry back to camp. But Confederate soldiers' 
purses were generally as empty as their stomachs, and in 
this instance the lady of the house did not oflPer to give 
away her nice dinner. "While the poor fellow was in- 
haling the enticing odor, and feeling desperately hungry, 
a girl rode up to the gate on horseback, and bawled out 
to another girl inside the house, — 

" Oh, Cindy, I rid over to see if you couldn't lend me 
a needle ! I broke the last one I had to-day, and pap 
says thar ain't nary 'nother to be bought in the country 
hereabouts !" 

Cindy declared she was in the same fix, and couldn't 
finish her new homespun dress for that reason. 

The soldier just then had an idea. He retired to a 
little distance, pulled out his case, sticking two needles 
on the front of his jacket, then went back and offered 
one of them, with his best bow, to the girl on the horse. 
Right away the lady of the house offered to trade for 
the one remaining. The result was a plentiful dinner 
for himself; and in consideration of a thread or two of 
silk, a full haversack and canteen. 



HIGH PRICE FOR NEEDLES AND THREAD. 295 

After this our mess was well supplied, and our forager 
began to look sleek and fat. The secret of his success 
did not leak out till long afterward, when he astonished 
the boys by declaring that he " had been ' living like a 
fighting-cock' on a paper of needles and two skeins of 
silk." 

"And," added father, " if he had paid for all the meals 
he got in Confederate money, the amount would have 
been far more than ten dollars." 

I know other boys and girls will think this a queer 
story, but I hope they will like it as well as mother and 
Loo and I did. 



CHAPTEE YII. 

BUNNY. 

One bright morning I sat in the matron's room of the 
" Buckner Hospital," then located at Newnan, Georgia. 
Shall I describe to you this room — or my suite of rooms ? 
Indeed, I fear you will be disappointed, dear young 
readers, for perhaps the word " hospital" conveys to 
your mind the idea of a handsome and lofty building 
containing every convenience for nursing the sick, and 
for the comfort of attendants. Alas! during the war 
hospital arrangements were of the roughest. Frequent 
changes of location were imperative, transportation 
was difficult. So it became a "military necessity" to 
seize upon such buildings as were suitable in the towns 
where it was intended to establish a "post." Court- 
houses, halls, stores, hotels, even churches had to be 
used, — the pews being removed and replaced by the 
rough hospital beds. 

The " Buckner Hospital" was expected to accommo- 
date nearly one thousand sick and wounded, and em- 
braced every building for two solid squares. Near the 
centre a small store had been appropriated to the ma- 
tron's use during the day. Here all business relating to 
the comfort of the sick and wounded was transacted. 
The store as it stood, shelves, counters, and all, became 
the " linen-room," and was piled from floor to ceihng 
with bedding and clean clothing. The back " shed-room" 
was the matron's own. A rough table, planed on the 
top, stood in the centre. With the exception of one 
296 



BUNNY. 297 

large rocking-chair, kindly donated by a lady of Eing- 
gold, Georgia, boxes served for chairs. A couch made 
of boxes and piled with comforts and pillows stood in 
one corner. This served not only as an occasional rest- 
ing-place for the matron, but, with the arm-chair, was 
frequently occupied by soldiers who, in the early stages 
of convalescence, having made a pilgrimage to my room, 
were too weak to return at once, and so rested awhile. 

Here 1 sat on the morning in question looking over 
some " diet lists," when I heard a slight noise at the 
door. Soon a little girl edged her way into the room. 

Her dress was plain and faded, but when she pushed 
back the calico sun-bonnet a sweet, bright face appeared. 
She came forward as shyly as a little bird and stood at 
my side. As I put out my hand to draw her closer, she 
cried, " Don't, you'll scare him !" 

And then I perceived that she held close to her breast, 
wrapped in her check apron, something that moved and 
trembled. Carefully the little girl removed a corner of 
the apron, disclosing the gray head and frightened eyes 
of a squirrel. Said she, "It's Bunny; he's mine; I 
raised him, and I want to give him to the sick soldiers! 
Daddy's a soldier T' And as she stated this last fact the 
sweet face took on a look of pride. 

"What is your name, and how did you get here?" I 
said. 

"My name is Ca-line. Uncle Jack, he brung in a 
load of truck, and mammy let me come ^long, an' I 
didn't have nothing to fetch to the poor soldiers but 
Bunny. He's mine," she repeated, as she tenderly 
covered again the trembling little creature. I soon found 
that she desired to give the squirrel away with her own 
hands, and did not by any means consider me a sick sol- 
dier. That she should visit the fever-wards was out of 
the question, so I decided to go with her to a ward 



298 MEMORIES. 

where were some wounded men, most of whom were 
convalescent. My own eyes, alas ! were so accustomed 
to the sight of the pale, suffering faces, empty sleeves, 
and dreadful scars, that I did not dream of the effect it 
would have upon the child. 

As we entered she dropped my hand, clinging con- 
vulsively to my dress. Addressing the soldiers, I said, 
" Boys, little Ca-line has brought you her pet squirrel ; 
her father is a soldier, she says." But here the poor 
child broke down utterly ; from her pale lips came a cry 
which brought tears to the eyes of the brave men who 
surrounded her : " Oh, daddy, daddy ; I don't want you 
to be a soldier! Oh, lady, will they do my daddy like 
this?" 

Hastily retreating, I led the tortured child to my 
room, where at last she recovered herself. I gave her 
lunch, feeding Bunny with some corn-bread, which he 
ate, sitting on the table by his little mistress, his bright 
eyes fixed warily upon me. A knock at the door 
startled us. The child quickly snatched up her pet 
and hid him in her apron. The visitor proved to be 
" Uncle Jack," a white-headed old negro, who had come 
for " little Missy." 

Tears came to my eyes as I watched the struggle 
which at once began in that brave little heart. Her 
streaming eyes and heaving breast showed how hard it 
was to give up Bunny. Uncle Jack was impatient, how- 
ever, and at. last " Missy" thrust the squirrel into my 
hands, saying, sobbingl}^, " TAar, you keep him to show 
to 'em, but don't let nothin' hurt' him." I arose and 
placed Bunny in the deep pocket of an army over- 
coat that hung by the window, where he cuddled 
down contentedly. Ca-line passed out with a lagging 
step, but in a few moments ran back, and, drawing a 
box under the window, climbed upon it to peep into the 



BUNNY. 299 

pocket at her pet, who ungratefully growled at being 
disturbed. She then ran out without a word to me, 
and I saw her no more. 

Bunny soon attached himself to me. Creeping into 
my pocket, he would always accompany me in my 
rounds through the wards. The sick and wounded 
took the greatest delight in his visits. As soon as I en- 
tered the door the squirrel would run up on my shoulder; 
from thence, jumping upon the beds, would proceed 
to search for the treasures which nearly every patient 
had saved and hidden for him. His capers were a 
source of unceasing amusement to his soldier friends, — 
I cannot describe to you how great. The story of little 
Ca-line's self-sacrifice went the rounds among them. 
All admired and truly appreciated her heroism and her 
love for "the poor, sick soldiers." 

Bunny lived happily for a long time. One day, how- 
ever, as I was passing along the street, he began as 
usual to run from out my pocket to my shoulder, and 
back again to nestle in his hiding-place. 

Just then a large dog came by. The frightened 
squirrel made a vain attempt to reach a tree by the 
road-side. Failing, he was at once seized and instantly 
killed. My regret was shared by all the soldiers, who 
long remembered and talked of poor Bunny. 



CHAPTEK YIII. 

BEAUREGARD. 

One very cold day in the winter of 1862 there came 
to the Third Alabama Hospital, in Eichmond, Virginia, a 
sick soldier, belonging to the Third Alabama Eegiment. 
He was shivering, and so hoarse that he could only 
speak in whispers. Instead of going at once to bed, 
however, he sat down upon a bench by the stove, keep- 
ing his blanket drawn closely over his chest. His teeth 
were chattering, and continued to do so until I. ordered 
him to go to his bed immediately, meanwhile hastening 
down-stairs to prepare for him a hot drink. Upon my 
return, my patient was in bed, closely covered up, — head 
and all. As soon as I turned down the bedclothes from 
his face, I was startled by a furious er-r-r-r bow-wow, 
wow, wow, which also attracted the attention of every 
one in the large ward. Of course it was impossible 
longer to conceal the fact that the new patient had 
brought with him a dog, so he showed me — nestling 
under his arm — a young Newfoundland puppy, looking 
like nothing so much as a fluffy black ball. His bright 
eyes gleamed fiercely and he continued to bark in a shrill 
tone, which could not be allowed to continue, as it ex- 
cited and disturbed the sick. I am a lover of dogs, and 
now offered to take charge of this little waif His 
master was unwilling to part with him, but there was 
no alternative, so I carried him off down-stairs, where, 
installed in comfortable quarters and petted by every- 
body, the ungrateful little dog seemed to forget the sick 
300 



BEAUREGARD. 301 

master who had cherished him so fondly, and, far from 
grieving or moping at the separation, grew every day 
more frolicsome. From the soldier I learned the history 
of his dog. He said, — 

" Shortly before I was sent to the hospital our regi- 
ment captured a Federal camp. Among the plunder I 
found that little fellow curled up in a camp-bed that 
some Yankee had just- got out of, and as warm as toast. 
He seemed to take to me right off. I reckon the Yankee 
had a name for him, but I call him ' Beauregard.' The 
poor fellow has had a hard time since I got him, for 
rations in the valley are poor and scant, but Tve done 
with less so he could have a bite, and I tell you he has 
kept me warm a many a night." 

However, when the soldier was ready to return to 
camp, Beauregard had grown quite too large to be 
carried in his master's bosom. So he was given to my 
little son, and remained to claim our care and to become 
an object of interest to all inmates of the hospital. It 
became so much a matter of course for me to take the 
dog with me on my morning rounds through the wards 
that whenever he was left behind, my patients never 
failed to miss him, and to inquire, " Where's the gen- 
eral to-day ?" He was very intelligent, easily learning 
to trot quietly along down the rows of beds. If he 
ever grew too frisky, I had only to stop short, pointing 
to the entrance, when down would drop his tail, and he 
was off like a shot to the yard. There he awaited 
my coming, always looking anxiously in my face to 
see if I was still angry. When I would ask, " Are you 
sorry, Beau?" he would whine and come crawling to my 
feet. As soon as he heard me say " All right," he began 
to bound and run around in a circle and in other ways 
to show his joy. 

Among the patients he had many warm friends who 
26 



302 MEMORIES. 

used to take great pleasure in saving scraps to feed him 
with. They also loved to tease him by wrapping some 
nice morsel in many papers. The parcel was then hidden. 
Beauregard knew just which beds to stop at, and, greatly 
to the delight of his friends, would put his paws upon 
the bunks and "nose about" under the mattress or 
pillows for the bundles there hidden. After many at- 
tempts to get through the many papers in which lay a 
coveted morsel, he would grow impatient and disgusted, 
and would at last sit down, looking earnestly first at 
the inmate of the bed, then at the parcel on the floor. 
Then, if he was not helped, he would push the bed with 
his paw, until at last he succeeded in gaining his wish. 

Early in the spring Beau fell into some disgrace, 
for while romping with my little boy he threw him 
down and broke his arm. Everybody scolded the poor 
dog, crying shame on him wherever he appeared, until 
he got a habit of slinking out of sight. Before the 
broken arm was quite well, little Wally grew very ill 
of typhoid fever, so ill that his papa was sent for, for it 
seemed that he must die. Beauregard attached him- 
self very closely to my husband, rarely leaving his 
side. When his new master returned to camp, I went 
down to the boat to see him off. The dog followed us. 
The boat was crowded with soldiers going to reinforce 
McG-ruder, so I did not go on board, but when ready to 
return discovered that Beau was missing. The first 
letter from my husband announced that the dog had 
followed his master on the boat, where he must have 
hidden, for his presence was not discovered until some 
time after the boat had left the wharf. In camp he be- 
came a terrible nuisance. No matter how securely he 
was tied, the dog always managed to escape and attend 
the drill. Here he would sometimes sit down and 
gravely watch the proceedings, cocking his head first 



BEA UREGARD. 303 

on one side, then on the other, but usually he would 
rush into the ranks to find his master, getting under the 
feet of the men, who in consequence lost step and got 
out of line, of course becoming very angry. The shells 
frequently exploding in the vicinity became a constant 
terror to this unfortunate, who knew not how to avoid 
them. He soon learned to distinguish the shriek of a 
coming shell, and would race off in one direction, look- 
ing fearfully back over his shoulder,, until a similar 
sound in another quarter would so puzzle and terrify 
him that he would stand still awhile until the noise of 
an explosion utterly demoralized him, when he would 
frantically dig up the ground, as if trying to bury him- 
self 

I am afraid I must acknowledge that my dog was 
not strictly honest. In fact, his depredations upon their 
larders won for him the undying hatred of the colored 
cooks of various messes, who were always seeking re- 
venge. Their dislike culminated one day in a dreadful 
scalding, inflicted upon the poor dog by the cook of an 
officers' mess, who poured a whole kettle of boiling 
water upon his back, causing him weeks of suffering 
and the loss of part of his beautiful flossy coat. This 
seemed to have implanted in his mind a profound dis- 
trust of negroes, which he never ceased to entertain 
until the day of his death. After this Beauregard was 
sent up to Eichmond that I might cure his wound; this 
I was more easily enabled to do, as my friends among 
the surgeons kindly advised and assisted me. He was 
soon quite well, the growing hair nearly concealing 
his scars. When I left Eichmond with my little boy, 
Beau accompanied us, and found a permanent home 
upon the plantation of a relative in Alabama. It was 
here that he first showed his extreme dislike for negroes, 
which attracted attention and became unmistakable. 



304 MEMORIES. 

At first it gave much trouble, but gradually he grew 
tolerant of the servants upon the "home-place," al- 
though he never took kindly even to these. He never 
forgot that he had been scalded. At any time steam 
arising from a boiling tea-kettle or pot would send him 
yelping away. I remember hearing the youngsters say 
that once when Beauregard had followed them miles into 
the woods, seeming to enjoy the tramp and the hunt, 
they having decided to have a lunch of broiled birds, 
heated some water in a camp-kettle to scald them pre- 
paratory to picking off the feathers. As soon as the 
birds were dipped into the water and taken out steam- 
ing, the dog set out for home, where they found him, 
upon their return, hiding under a corn-crib. 

Although, as I said before. Beau became used to the 
servants whom he saw every day upon the home-place, 
no strange negro dared to come inside the big gate 
unless accompanied by one of the familj-. Whenever 
the deep, hoarse bark of Beauregard announced the 
appearance of strangers, it was known that the dog 
must be chained. Not once, but many times, I have 
seen a load of " fodder" or " garden-truck" driven into 
the yard and immediately surrounded by this one big dog, 
who would keep the black driver crouching at the very 
top of the load with " ashy" face and chattering teeth, 
while his besieger walked growling around the wagon, 
occasionally jumping up upon the chance of seizing an 
unguarded foot. Until the dog was securely chained 
nothing would induce his prisoner to venture down. 
No chicken-thieves dared to put in an appearance so 
long as this faithful beast kept watch upon the premises. 
And for his faithfulness he was doomed to destruction. 
Such a state of security in any place could not long be 
tolerated. The would-be thieves, exasperated by the 
impunity with which fine, fat turkeys, geese, ducks, and 



BEA UREQARD. 305 

chickens walked about before their very eyes, and 
smoke-houses, melon-patches, and wood-piles remained 
undisturbed, at last poisoned faithful Beauregard, whose 
death left the home-place unprotected, for not one of 
his successors ever followed his example or proved half 
as watchful. 



I tt 26* 

I 

I 



PART III. 

AFTER TWENTY YEAES.* 



CHAPTER I. 

"MY BOYS." 

Address to the Wives and Children of Confederate Veterans. 

I HAVE been often and earnestly requested by "my 
comrades" to address to you a few words explanatory 
of the tie which binds me to them and them to me. 
They tell me, among other things, that you "wonder 
much, and still the wonder grows," that I should pre- 
sume to call grave and dignified husbands and fathers 
" my boys." Having promised to meet their wishes, I 
must in advance apologize for the egoism which it is quite 
impossible to avoid, as my own war record is inseparable 
from that of my comrades. 

Does it seem strange to you that I call these bronzed 
and bearded men "my boys?" Ah, friends, in every 
time-worn face there lives always for me " the light of 
other days." Memory annihilates the distance between 
the long-ago and the present. 

I seem to see them marching, with brave, bright faces 
and eager feet, to meet the foe. I hear the distant boom 
of cannon, growing fainter as they press the retreating 
enemy. And then, alas! many come back to me muti- 
lated, bleeding, dying, yet with ardor unquenched, re- 

* These articles, originally prepared for The Southern Bivouac and 
" South Illustrated," are here republished by special request. 
306 



"Mr BOYS.'' 307 

pressing moans of anguish that they may listen for the 
shout of victory : wrestling fiercely with the King of 
Terrors, not that they fear to die, but because his chill 
grasp palsies the arm that would fain strike another blow 
for the right. 

I stood among the sick and wounded Ijing in a hos- 
pital in Eichmond, Virginia, while the magnificent Army 
of Northern Virginia was passing from the scene of their 
late glorious victory at Manassas to meet the invaders 
under McClellan, who were marching upon the Penin- 
sula. Around me lay many sick and wounded men, 
gathered under the immense roof of a tobacco factory, 
which covered nearly a whole square. Its windows 
commanded a full view of the legions passing on both 
sides. . 

The scene I can never forget. As the strains of mar- 
tial music fell upon the summer air, pale, gaunt forms 
struggled to their feet, feebly but eagerly donned clothes 
and accoutrements, and, staggering under their weight, 
crept to the office of the surgeon in charge, piteously 
begging that they might " get to go on with the boys." 
Many, too weak to rise, broke into bitter sobs: tears 
poured from eyes bright with fever or dim with the 
shadow of death. Passing among these, I was startled 
to see a patient, whom all bad supposed to be dying, 
sitting up in bed. Stretching his arms toward me, he 
cried out, "Lady, lady, come here!" He was a boy of 
sixteen years, one of the glorious Third Alabama, and 
he begged so hard to be allowed to see " the boys" that 
I had his bunk drawn up to an open window, support- 
ing him in my arms so that he could see. When his 
own regiment passed, he tried with faltering breath to 
cheer, but, failing, waved his feeble hand, gasping out, 
" God knows, I wish I could be with you, boys, but 
*pears like the heavenly Master ain't willing." 



308 MEMORIES. 

His comrades passed on. The boy was borne back to 
his place, whence, in a few hours, he passed beyond all 
pain and disappointment. 

I need not mention here the magnificent record of the 
army that passed that day the streets of Eichmond. 
The pages of history are ablaze with the glory of it. 
!Not less glorious to me are the records written in my 
heart of heroic fortitude, patient endurance, sublime 
resignation. Alas for my poor, worn, shattered, suffer- 
ing, dying boys ! how their souls were tried, yet never 
found wanting ! 

The fortunes of war led me from the scenes of my first 
service to rejoin my husband, who had been ordered to 
the Army of Tennessee. On my journey, and while 
waiting to be assigned to duty, I lingered for a. while 
among the homes of Southern soldiers. How can I 
convey to you the impressions there received ? 

Here lay the main-spring of the valor which then and 
long afterward astonished the world. In the towns and 
near the front thousands of women daily ministered to 
the sick and wounded. When a battle ended, these 
could soon know the fate of loved ones, perhaps were 
permitted to nurse them, to attend their dying hour, 
or — inestimable privilege — reclaim the precious casket 
which had enshrined a gallant soul. But in many a coun- 
try home women endured, day after day, crucifixion of 
the soul, yet heroically, patiently, toiled and prayed on. 
Startled by flying rumors, tortured by suspense, weary 
with unwonted labor, they never dreamed of leaving 
the post of duty or of neglecting the interests confided 
to their care. No comforter had they save their God, 
no resource but unwearied prayer. 

Memory brings back to me a scene which sadly illus- 
trates the exalted courage and faith of these noble 
women. I was present one night when, at a plantation 



"MY BOYS.'' 309 

home, the family and servants were assembled, as usual, 
for prayers. The aged father led the worship, but, 
while praying for the absent sons, two of whom had 
already fallen in battle, he faltered and ceased. In- 
stantly the clear, sweet voice of the mother was heard 
as she prayed fervently, not only for the dear ones at 
the front, but for the holy cause, for other parents, other 
sons, and for strength to submit to God's will. 

I have, sitting by the bedside of sick or wounded sol- 
diers, read to them letters from just such homes, breath- 
ing lofty courage, full of cheer, although I knew that 
the hearts of the writers had been almost breaking, the 
fingers that penned them stiff and trembling with toil 
hitherto unknown. Grod bless the women of the South. 

If from every wreath that ever adorned the brow of 
a hero the brightest laurels were plucked, all would not 
form an offering too resplendent to lay at their feet. 

Soon after the battle of Shiloh began my service with 
the Army of Tennessee. How shall I make you under- 
stand, dear friends, how strong, how dear, how imperish- 
able are the ties which bind me to these grand and 
noble heroes, — the true, brave boys with whom I shared 
until the bitter end their trials and glory. Heroic souls 
who bore with equal fortitude and transcendent bravery 
alike the shock of battle, the pangs of " hope deferred," 
the untold hardships which soon became their daily 
portion. Their bleeding feet dyed alike the snows of 
Georgia and the rocky mountain paths of Tennessee. 

As their ranks were decimated by battle, disease, 
starvation, death, the hearts that were left swelled 
higher and higher with holy zeal, sublime courage. 
Night after night, with lagging, unwilling feet, they 
made the hated retreat. 

Day after day the sun shone on those defiant faces as 
they presented a still unbroken front and hurled them- 



310 MEMORIES. 

selves again and again against the invaders, contesting 
overy inch of the land they loved. 

Ah, the horrors of those latter days, when daily, 
almost hourly, brought to me ghastly wrecks of man- 
hood, when my ears were always filled with the moans 
of the dying, or irrepressible agonizing shrieks of those 
who were undergoing the torture of the surgeon's knife 
without the blessed aid of chloroform, for that was con- 
traband of war. Do you wonder, then, that I love to 
call those comrades of mine " my boys" ? Whether they 
served in the Army of Northern Yirginia or the Army 
of Tennessee, they were all alike my comrades. Their 
precious blood has often dyed my own garments. I 
have gone down with them to the very gates of death, 
wrestling with the death angel every step of the way, 
sometimes only to receive their last sighs as they passed 
into the valley of the shadow, sometimes permitted 
to guide their feeble feet once more into the paths of 
glory. 

I have shared their rations, plain but plentiful at first, 
at the last only a mouldy crust and a bit of rusty bacon. 
I have been upon an ambulance-train freighted with 
human agony delayed for hours by rumors of an enemy 
in ambush. I have fed men hungry with the ravening 
hunger of the wounded with scanty rations of musty 
corn-bread ; have seen them drink eagerly of foetid 
water, dipped from the road-side ditches. Yet they 
bore it all with supreme patience ; fretted and chafed, 
it is true, but only on account of enforced inactivity. 
I have packed haversacks with marching rations for 
forty-eight hours, a single corn-dodger split and with 
only a thin slice of bacon between the pieces. This 
was a Confederate sandwich. And on such food South- 
ern soldiers marched incredible distances, fought des- 
perate battles. The world will never cease to wonder 



"Mr BOYS." 311 

at the unfailing devotion, the magnificent courage, the 
unparalleled achievements of the Southern armies. 
Scarcely less admirable is the heroic spirit in which 
they have accepted defeat ; the industry which has 
hidden the desolation of our land with bountiful harvest, 
the honesty of purpose which now seeks to restore the 
constitution framed by our forefathers as it was, the 
patient yet invincible determination which has driven 
out tyranny and oppression, and reclaimed for posterit}^ 
this beautiful Southland, rich with historic memories, 
made sacred and beautiful by the graves of heroes. 

And these are my boys — still — always my boys. From 
the highest places of the land they turn to give me a 
comrade's greeting. I glory in the renown of these, but 
just as dear and precious to me is the warm grasp of 
the toil-hardened hand and the smile which beams upon 
me from the rugged face of the very humblest of " the 
boys who wore the gray." 

Dear friends, this subject is to me inexhaustible ; but I 
may no longer trespass upon your patience. With 
loving, reverent hands I have lifted the veil of the past. 
Let the transcendent glory streaming through penetrate 
the mask which time and care and sorrow have woven 
for the faces of my boys, and show you the brave, un- 
faltering hearts as I know them. 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE CONFEDERATE REUNION AT DALLAS. 

On the raorning of August 6, 1885, a small party of 
ladies and gentlemen set forth from Shreveport to attend 
the Confederate reunion at Dallas, Texas. 

The gentlemen of the party were veteran soldiers, and 
your correspondent claimed like honors. (Place this 
admission to my credit, for, believe me, it is a ruthless 
sacrifice of womanly vanity to dearer memories.) 

In congenial companionship the day passed quickly. 
Its close brought us to Dallas. And here began at once 
an emotional experience which might well be called " a 
tempest of the heart," — glimpses of glory once real. 
" Forms and scenes of long ago" appeared in such con- 
stant succession that it seemed Hke a resurrection of 
the dead and buried past. 

The first object that met our view was a large Con- 
federate battle-flag, suspended from a conspicuous build- 
ing on one of the principal streets, surmounted, sur- 
rounded by "star-spangled banners," large and small, 
but still there, to set our hearts throbbing wildly, to call 
forth a rain of blinding tears. This was but the begin- 
ning. Borne swiftly onward to the hotel, we momen- 
tarily started forward with streaming eyes and bated 
breath to gaze upon the phantom legions ever passing. 
Squads of cavalry dashed by, manly, weather-beaten 
boys in gray, and elegant-looking officers wearing the 
well-remembered slouched hat with cord and feathers, 
and full Confederate uniforms. Infantry and artillery 
312 



THE CONFEDERATE REUNION AT DALLAS. 313 

officers and privates thronged the sidewalks, arm in arm, 
walking in half embrace, or standing with hand grasping 
hand. Those not in uniform wore the badges of their 
respective commands, and frequently some faded rem- 
nant of " the gray." 

In the large dry-goods establishment of Sauger & 
Brothers an immense show-window was skilfully and 
beautifully arranged in honor of the occasion. Confed- 
erate soldiers (life size), so natural and life-like as to 
startle one, were grouped around a camp-fire anxiously 
watching a large kettle containing a tempting-look- 
ing " mess" of green corn, potatoes, other vegetables, 
and the rations of pork and beef. Blankets neatly 
rolled and strapped, canteens, haversacks, etc., lay near 
upon the ground. In the background, a deck of cards 
and two piles of Confederate money had evidently been 
thrown down and deserted to " watch the pot." We 
learned that this most realistic arrangement was the 
work of a "Yankee boy," whose father had served in 
the Federal army, — a loving tribute to the people among 
whom he had come to make his home. 

Arrived at the hotel, where a crowd of people waited 
in the parlor to be assigned rooms, we witnessed many 
a touching scene between veterans who met now after 
twenty years. An anxious face would look in at the 
door, a manly form would advance irresolutely into the 
room, furtively scanning the new-comers. Suddenly, — 
"Jim, can this be you?" "Why, Dave, old fel! great 
God, is this Dave?" Then as hand met and grasped 
hand these strong men would often break into sobs 
which forbade all speech, while every heart of those 
who looked on thrilled with responsive feeling. 

From what I learned of the intended evening festivi- 
ties at the camp-ground (music and dancing under the 
glare of the electric light), I felt disinclined to be present. 
o 27 



314 MEMORIES. 

All day I had walked hand in hand with memory, turn- 
ing again and again to clasp her closely and to feel the 
throbbing of her sad heart upon my own. The dear 
presence still enthralled me, and I could imagine no 
counter-charm in the laughing face and airy form of 
Terpsichore. 

On the following morning, Amy and I, escorted by a 
gallant Missouri veteran, set out for the rendezvous, 
where we found assembled three or four thousand peo- 
ple, among whom hundreds wearing more or less of the 
gray were conspicuous. The perfect and magnificent 
arrangements for the comfort *and entertainment of 
guests insjDired one with genuine admiration for those 
who had so well accomplished the grand results every- 
where apparent. Did one thirst ? In a hundred cool, 
pleasant nooks were placed casks of ice-water, with dip- 
pers and gourds of all sizes attached by long chains. 
If hungry, at " Headquarters" requisitions were fur- 
nished and duly honored by the commissary, who 
seemed to have a never-failing supply of delicious bar- 
becued beef and mutton, also generous rations of fresh 
bread. 

These were supplemented by elegant refreshments of 
all kinds, served under shaded tents by ladies, whose 
entire cordiality made them charming hostesses. 

Bands of music continually enlivened the scene. One 
of these (Gauche Brothers, of Dallas) was of rare excel- 
lence, rendering " Bonnie Blue Flag," " Dixie," and an 
exquisite nocturne, " The Soldier's Dream" (composed 
for this occasion by the leader of this band), with so 
much expression and skill as to elicit great applause. 
The speaker's stand was beautifully ornamented. Hang- 
ing on either side of the rostrum was a Confederate battle- 
flag. Above them, in the centre, floated a new and very 
handsome United States banner in graceful undulations. 



THE CONFEDERATE REUNION AT DALLAS. 315 

From its blue field not a star was missing. All had 
been restored, and the bunting waved proudly as if in- 
stinct with knowledge of this fact. But, oh, those 
other flatrs! sacred emblems of a cause so loved, so 
nobly defended, yet, alas, lostl shattered and torn by 
shot and shell, begrimed with the smoke of battle, 
deeply stained with precious blood; as the summer 
breeze dallied with their ragged folds, they seemed to 
stir with a feeble, mournful motion, like the slow throb- 
bing of a breaking heart. Pictures illustrating camp- 
life, battle scenes, etc., ornamented the stand, which 
was also decorated plentifully with red and white, with 
a sujfficient admixture of blue to make one remember to 
be loyal to the present. The attempt to depict camp- 
life, cannon, camp-fires, tents, stacked guns, sentries, 
etc., was utterly upset by the presence of hundreds of 
ladies and children, with the inevitable paraphernalia 
necessary to their comfort. " The front of grim-visaged 
war" was constantly being smoothed into beauty by 
baby fingers. Men, lured by siren voices, deserted the 
tented field, and were happy, in entire forgetfulness of 
duty (so called). Soldiers who did not bring ladies en- 
joyed hugely living in tents and once more " messing" 
together. Many eloquent speakers addressed the crowd. 
Pearls of eloquence were sown broadcast, and brought 
forth a generous harvest of applause. 

The number of officers present was surprising. Gen- 
erals, colonels, majors were pointed out to me by the 
score, and at last I began to wonder whether in the 
portion of the Confederate army here represented there 
were any " privates," at least I might have so wondered 
had I not known that, after many of the battles now 
being recalled with honest pride and merited applause, 
my own eyes had been too dim with tears to see the 
glory, my ears had failed to catch the sounds of triumph, 



316 MEMORIES. 

because so filled with awful death-groans or the agoniz- 
ing cries of the wounded. Men whose parting breath 
was an ascription of praise to the god of battles, whose 
last earthly joy was the knowledge of victory, and 
others who, shattered and torn and in throes of agony, 
yet repressed their moans that they might listen for 
the music of the fount which " springs eternal," whose 
bright waters (to them) mirrored the cause they loved 
so well. 

All honor to those who planned the glorious cam- 
paigns of the late war — who dauntlessly led heroic legions. 
Their record is without a parallel in the history of 
nations. Equal honor to the rank and file — whose 
splendid valor and self-sacrifice made success possible 
even when further efforts seemed but a " forlorn hope." 

I believe I have omitted no important detail of the 
reunion. Each day was just like the preceding one. 
Meetings and partings " tried men's souls," and women's 
hearts were stirred to their depths. 

At last the end came ; afterwards to many painful re- 
action. Still it was passing sweet to meet old friends 
and comrades, and to find that memory had not proven 
faithless to her trust. For many a day in the future we 
shall stand in the light of the sur23assing glory which 
streamed through as the curtain, which has so long ob- 
scured the past, was lifted again and again by tender, 
reverent hands, under the oaks at Dallas. 

An Incident of the Dallas BeunionJ* 

(The scene here described is to me a " memory'' passing 
sweet, and one which I desire to perpetuate. This feel- 
ing is far removed from vanity. Had the " Lost Cause" 

* Written at the time for the Shreveport paper by Colonel Hen- 
derson, a true and gallant soldier, who has since died. 



THE CONFEDERATE REUNION AT DALLAS. 817 

been triuniphant, my lips would have been sealed as to 
my own service. As it is, I glory in having served it, 
and cherish fondly even the slightest token that " my 
boys" do not forget me.) 

" On the last day of the Southern Soldiers' Keunion at 
Dallas, and when sentiments had been read in honor of 
this and that officer of distinction in the service of the 
Lost Cause, a lady occupying a somewhat retired posi- 
tion on the platform handed to General Gano a slip of 
paper on which was traced the following noble sentiment 
as read by General Gano in a clear, distinct voice, and 
in tones that expressed his entire concurrence. 

" The sentiment and the name subscribed are sufficient 
of themselves. We give it as follows : 

" ' The Private Soldier of the Confederate States 
Army. 
" ' He bore in his bosom a heart of oak; he withstood 
the brunt of battle and sustained the heat and burthen of 
the day. His blood nourished the laurels which other- 
wise had never bloomed to grace the brow of Lee and 
Jackson. For myself, no blessing has ever crowned my 
life more highly prized than the God-given privilege 
I enjoyed during four years of the war, of ministering 
to the boys who wore the ragged, unornamented gray. 
" ' Tour devoted friend and comrade, 

" ' Mrs. Fanny A. Beers, 
" ' Late of the Confederate Army.' 

" To this sentiment came the response of three cheers 
and a regular rebel yell, repeated and repeated for the 
space of twenty minutes. 

" But the most touching feature followed. A number 
of old Confederate soldiers, who had in wounds and 

27* 



318 MEMORIES. 

sickness received gentle and healing ministrations from 
the hands of Mrs. Beers, and learned just then that she 
was present, in defiance of all order, rushed to the stand 
and gathered about her. Each and every one bore the 
mark of some wound received in the war, and wore 
about their person some fragment of Confederate uni- 
form — a hat, a coat, or other article — as souvenirs of the 
days of trials and glory. 

" Like old children they gathered around her, grasping 
her hand and blessing her and testifying to all the world 
what a blessing she had been to them. 

" It was, indeed and truly, the most touching and strik- 
ing incident of the late reunion of Confederate veterans 
at Dallas." 



CHAPTEE III. 

CAMP NICHOLS. 

The Louisiana Soldiers^ Home, 

I MUST begin with a digression, for, as thought con- 
centrates itself upon this pleasant subject, one is irre- 
sistibly impelled to remember the delightful ride thither- 
ward, and to wonder if any other city in the United 
States can boast of street-car routes so beautiful. The 
visitor to " Camp l!^ichols," taking on Canal Street a 
car of the Esplanade and Bayou Bridge line, is borne 
I smoothly along for miles under cool, green arches of 

j oak-trees, a broad street on either side, bordered by 

elegant residences and lovely, fragrant gardens. 

Looking back, where the green arcade narrows away 
in the distance, or forward, to observe how the rough 
track is made beautiful by the shadows of dancing 
leaves and boughs, — glancing at the rapidly-succeeding 
pictures of beauty and comfort on either side, inhaling 
the mingled perfume of flowers, — one is placed under 
a spell of enchantment which lasts until, at "Bayou 
Bridge," the end of the route is reached. Leaving the 
car, a very short walk along the banks of the Bayou 
brings the visitor to the " camp." Upon entering the 
gate the first thought is, " How pleasant, how peaceful, 
how homelike." The comfortable-looking house is beau- 
tifully shaded by large live-oaks. Under these green 
grass is diversified by neatly-kept walks. Midway be- 
tween the outer gate and the house a small stream is 
spanned by a rustic bridge. As I stood upon this 

319 



320 MEMORIES. 

bridge and saw, upon the pleasant galleries in front of 
their rooms, the maimed and scarred veterans sitting 
in groups or apart, tranquilly smoking and chatting or 
reading, the dying words of our "Stonewall" Jackson 
came into my mind, — " Let us cross the river and rest 
in the shade of the trees." To him was given eternal 
rest. The weary spirit even then stood by the river of 
death and viewed beyond the trees of paradise. Less 
happy these who remain to witness the downfall of 
hope. Ah, what can be more glorious, yet more deeply 
sorrowful, than the story of their past. The strength 
and beauty of their youth and early manhood was 
freely given to the cause they deemed sacred. It was, 
alas ! lost ; and, the tempest of war subsiding, left upon 
a desolate shore these wrecks. 

Eeturning after the war to find only ruined homes 
and shattered fortunes, those who had retained health 
and strength found them taxed to the utmost. Neces- 
sity held them in bonds of iron, and the demands of 
helpless families absorbed them. All the same, manly 
hearts have been often and painfully stirred by the 
silent appeals of maimed and suffering comrades, and 
the faithful few have never ceased to hope and strive 
for the result now attained in the " Soldiers' Home." 

It is pleasant to feel that the first rays of the newly- 
arisen sun of prosperity have dispelled the darkness 
wherein these poor fellows have wandered so long, 
revealing to them the kindly faces of brothers, who, 
having gone in search of them, will lead them to home 
and rest. 

As I said before, the " Home" viewed from the bridge, 
a few hundred yards in front, suggests ideas of comfort 
which are fully realized upon a closer investigation. 
The rooms are delightfully situated (opening upon a 
shaded gallery), perfectly ventilated, and very cool, fur- 



CAMP NICHOLS. 321 

nished with iron bedsteads, comfortable and cleanly 
bedding, wardrobes or bureaus, and washstands. The 
library and reception-room is a charming nook, em- 
bellished with many gifts from loving hands. 

Immediately opposite the entrance is placed an ex- 
cellent portrait of General Francis T. Nichols, a hero 
whom all (Louisianians especially) delight to honor. 
From the bloody battle-fields of Northern Virginia he 
brought back a mangled and shattered body, but enough 
I to hold and enshrine a powerful, active brain, and a 

heart as brave and generous as ever beat in human 
bosom. 

He is idolized by his comrades and beloved by us all. 
] By a unanimous vote of the board of directors the 

I home has been called " Camp Nichols," and from a 

I gracefully-proportioned flag-staff, placed directly in front 

I of the reception-room (the gift of the Army of Tennes- 

j see), floats a banner whereon this honored name was 

j embroidered by the daughters of Generals Lee and 

[ Jackson during their recent visit to New Orleans. 

I Tbe dining-room is very large, well lighted, and fairly 

j shines with cleanliness. In short, everj^ appointment is 

i excellent, and every effort of managers and officers is 

directed toward making the disabled veterans feel that 
they are honored inmates of a home which they have 
earned and deserved, not recipients of charity. Camp 
Nichols may well be called a try sting-place of heroes. 
Here old comrades meet as comrades and friends. In 
the warm grasp of hands there is no suspicion of patron- 
age. Eight down in these brave, long-suffering hearts 
shine glances full of the unforgotten "light of other 
days," causing eyes dim and clouded by care and sor- 
row to beam with a responsive brightness. Ah, who 
shall undertake to estimate the value and blessedness 
of this work ! 



322 MEMORIES. 

The Legislature of Louisiana organized this enter- 
prise in 1881, making a yearly appropriation for its sup- 
port. It is designed for all soldiers of Louisiana who 
have been disabled by wounds received in her service or 
have become incapacitated by age or disability; is con- 
trolled by a board of directors, also created by the State, 
consisting of the president, three vice-presidents, and 
recording secretary of the Army of Northern Yirginia, 
and the president, three vice-presidents, and recording 
secretary of the Army of Tennessee. 

The harmonious action of this board is nobly sus- 
tained by the members composing both organizations. 

The president of the Army of Tennessee, Judge 
"Walter Eogers, is an indefatigable worker, as he was 
once a brave and faithful soldier. He may with perfect 
truth be written "as one who loves his fellow-men" 
(especially his fellow-soldiers). I believe he will, as 
long as he lives, stand a faithful sentinel upon the sands 
of time, watching lest the ever-encroaching tide of 
years may obliterate sacred foot-prints. 

All arrangements having been nearly completed, the 
Home was opened January 1, 1884. Eight soldiers were 
at once admitted, and since the number has been in- 
creased to fifty. Under the rules of the institution no 
compulsory labor is allowed except that necessary to 
properly police the quarters. Yet all feel so deep an 
interest in their Home that they yield willing assistance 
whenever asked. They choose such occupations as 
they are physically able to perform, and take delight in 
keeping things in order. 

The Home has many friends outside of the Confed- 
erate organizations, none more zealous and truly kind 
than the officers and members of the Grand Army of 
the Eepublic, "Mewer Post." These are frequent and 
welcome visitors to Camp Kichols, and have shown both 



CAMP NICHOLS. 323 

«> 
generosity and thoughtfulness in their contributions to 
the comfort of its inmates. The superintendent, Captain 
Wilh'am Bullitt, was selected on account of his soldierly 
qualities and excellent administrative abilities, and by a 
unanimous vote of the board elected to fill the position. 

His record is untarnished and excellent. At the in- 
ception of the war, having assisted in raising the First 
Compan}^ Louisiana Guards, he went out as first lieuten- 
ant of the same, won by promotion the rank of captain 
and afterwards of major, which he held at the close of 
the war. Used, therefore, to command, he also brings to 
his work a thorough love for it, and an amount of intelli- 
gence in interpreting, and skill in carrying out arrange- 
ments and improvements proposed by the board of 
directors, which insures success and the satisfaction of 
all concerned. 

" God bless our Home," and let the light of His coun- 
tenance shine upon it and bless it. 

And may God strengthen the kindly hands which 
have led these weary ones away from thorny pathways 
" through green pastures and beside still waters." May 
they never falter nor fail until the all-merciful Father 
shall himself provide the "rod and staff" which shall 
guide all through the dark valley to rest eternal. 



CHAPTER lY. 

THE MARCB OF TIME. 

Thoughts suggested while witnessing the ceremonies attending 
the unveiling of a statue of General Albert Sydney Johnston, 
erected upon their tomb by the Louisiana Division, Army of 
Tennessee, in New Orleans, Louisiana, April 6, 1887.* 

Little more than three years ago there came a day 
long to be remembered by every man, woman, and child 
resident in New Orleans, and by all strangers then so- 
journing within her gates. A day when the souls of 
thousands held but a single thought, when all hearts 
beat as one, when one impulse, strong, thrilling, irresis- 
tible led willing feet to where, upon a pedestal, raised 
stone by stone by love and selfsacrifice, stood the 
shrouded figure of General Robert E. Lee. Above hung 
heavy clouds, alas! too suggestive of the hopes that 
perished forever at Appomattox, but ever and anon the 
struggling sun broke through, lingering awhile as if to 
recall the matchless glory which, even in the hour of 
disaster and defeat, gilded and made immortal the un- 
tarnished swords, the stacked arms, then and there sur- 
rendered. 

To me the terrific storm which soon broke, upsetting 
all arrangements, abolishing all ceremonies, hushing all 
oratory, seemed to solemnize and mark in a most fitting 
manner this great occasion. For no tongue of man or 
angel could have evoked a feeling so strong, a sentiment 



* The article was first published in " The Illustrated South." 
824 



THE MARCH OF TIME. 325 

SO lasting, as that written, as it were, by tlie finger of 
Heaven that day upon the hearts of that awe-stricken 
multitude. Years hence, those who were boys then will 
remember the lesson there learned. They will tell you 
of the soldierly figures standing at the foot of the 
monument, exposed to the pitiless storm, immovable, 
unshrinking on duty, and these were men who, follow- 
ing where duty led, had won an imperishable record 
under the immortal Lee. 

They will describe how, in the storm-swept streets 
outside the enclosure, legions of soldiers, the Blue as 
well as the G-ray, calmly faced the howling tempest, 
standing " at rest," awaiting the moment when the form 
of the great commander should be revealed to their 
reverent gaze. Among these, the veterans of the Army 
of Tennessee bore a conspicuous part. In their true, 
brave hearts, second to none in allegiance to their com- 
mander-in-chief, there yet lay enshrined another image, 
there burned another purpose equally high and holy. 
Hope pointed down the long vista of the future to where 
lay — a tomb ! only a tomb ! nay, more — a " bivouac of 
the dead," where, life's battle fought, the toilsome march 
ended, weary comrades might gather to their rest. And 
so far distant, yet always in sight, gleamed their Mecca ; 
steadily towards it marched the pilgrims of memory, 
unfaltering, undismayed, led by a few brave, faithful 
spirits, through deserts of discouragement, when oases 
were few and far between, patiently bridging chasms 
which seemed impassable, until to-day they stand at 
the goal so hardly won. There lie the veterans who 
one by one have stolen to the bivouac. "After life's 
fitful fever they sleep well." Above, faithful comrades 
keep watch and ward. Here is a solemn but glorious 
trysting-place. 

On the morning of the 6th of April, twenty-five years 
28 



326 MEMORIES. 

ago, a sky as bright and beautiful as that which to-day 
bends above us, became obscured and darkened by the 
smoke of battle. Of the Confederate forces then and 
there engaged it has been said, " Their splendid valor 
has been rarely equalled, never surpassed, on any field 
of any war." Alas! why must it be that grief and 
glory always go hand in hand ? Up through the heavy 
clouds which hid the face of nature that terrible day 
sped hundreds of gallant souls, straight to the light 
wherein was made clear to them the awful Providence 
which even now disquiets our hearts and clouds our 
earthly vision. Among them, one whose sudden taking 
off filled every breast with gloom, and wrested from the 
Confederacy the fruits of a splendid victory. 

So many and so grand are the eulogies which have 
been pronounced upon Albert Sydney Johnston that 
nothing remains for me to add. Who does not remem- 
ber the sorrow of a nation at his death ? Who can forget 
the lava tide of indignation which spread over our land 
when the "conquered" were forbidden to mourn their 
fallen hero, when a stricken people were compelled to 
"lay their hands upon their mouths, their mouths in 
the dust," when even the mournful voices of the bells 
were silenced ? 

Viewed in the glorious light of to-day, how like a 
prophecy fulfilled appear the beautiful lines of Father 
Eyan,— 

" There's a grandeur in graves, there's a glory in gloom, 
For out of the gloom future brightness is born, 
As after the night looms the sunrise of mom, 
And the graves of the dead, with grass overgrown, 
May yet form the footstool of Liberty's throne." 

Years of bitter strife have left sad traces all over this 
beautiful Southland. In lovely valleys, upon every hill- 



THE MARCH OF TIME. 327 

side, in the majestic forests, lie, side by side, the Gray 
and the Blue. The sun clothes every mound with equal 
glory, the sky weeps over all alike. Standing beside 
these graves, angry passions die in the hearts of brave 
men ; " one touch of nature" moistens manly eyes, 
softens obdurate hearts. Involuntarily hands meet in 
a firmer clasp, which expresses respect as well as sym- 
pathy. 

The soldiers on both sides have learned to appreciate 
and understand each other, so, in spite of those who 
would fain prolong the strife, the long-oppressed people 
of the South are free to mourn their dead, and 

" The graves of the dead, with grass overgrown," 

indeed 

" Form a footstool for Liberty's throne." 

To-day the veterans who met and fiercely battled at 
Shiloh unite in doing honor to the memory of General 
Johnston and of the men who, with him, won immor- 
tality upon that bloody field. 

To-day imperishable laurels bloom afresh upon the 
upturned brows of the men who hail with loud acclaim 
the image of their chieftain placed here to guard forever 

** War's richest spoil, — the ashes of the dead." 

It is fitting that, on this day of memory, rich strains 
of martial music should awaken long-silent echoes in 
this city of the dead, — fitting that nature should be 
despoiled of her floral treasures to deck this sacred 
place which, indeed, is " not so much the tomb of virtue 
as its shrine." 

The flowers that yield their beauty and fragrance to 
grace this scene will fade and die. Yon radiant sun 



328 MEMORIES. 

will set, but not before it has burned an indelible record 
upon the young hearts of thousands to whom, ere long, 
we must trust this precious spot. 

Of the remnant of the once magnificent Army of Ten- 
nessee gathered here it will soon be said, — 

" On Fame's eternal camping-ground 
Their silent tents are spread." 

But the figure of their chieftain will be left to tell the 
story of a patriotic purpose long cherished in faithful 
hearts, at last accomplished by patient hands. 

" Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's hlight, 
Nor Time's remorseless doom, 
Can dim our ray of holy light 
That gilds this glorious tomb." 



CHAPTEE V. 

A WOMAN'S RECORD* 

(Prom the Southern Bivouac.) 

This record will be found to substantiate in every 
particular my own history of the period referred to. 

Being inspired by an ardent zeal or a high sense of 
duty, not a few noble women during the war arose con- 
spicuous to view. Their gentle deeds, though done in 
humble spheres, yet shone like " a bright light in a low 
world." 

Fair exemplars they were of patriotic virtue, whose 
acts of devotion helped much to enshrine in our mem- 
ories a melanchol}^ past ; and they should not be forgot- 
ten. In the March number of the Bivouac was given a 
short sketch of a lady who, during the war, tenderly 
cared for the sick and suffering Confederates in a North- 
ern prison. It is now proposed to give the record of one 
who, animated with a romantic love for the cause of the 
South, left a luxurious home and spent nearly four years 
in nursing the sick and wounded in Confederate hospitals. 

Mrs. Fannie A. Beers was a native of the North, and 
the child of fond parents, who gave her every educational 
advantage, and the means of acquiring all the accom- 
plishments usual in refined circles. 

When very young she was married to her present 
husband, and before the war came South to reside at 
New Orleans. By nature ardent and susceptible, she 

* Written in 1883 by Major McDonald, of Louisville, Kentucky, 
then editor Southern Bivouac. 

28* 329 



330 MEMORIES. 

readily adapted herself to the surroundings of her new 
life, and soon grew to love the people and the land of 
her adoption. A few years of happiness passed and 
then came the sectional storm. Full well she knew that 
it threatened to sunder cherished ties, but it did not 
move her from the side of her choice. 

When the struggle came at last, and her home was 
broken up in New Orleans by the absence of her husband 
in the field, she returned to the parental roof, to beguile 
the time in the companionship of her mother. But the 
separation, with the anxiety it brought, became intoler- 
able ; besides, from the positiveness of her opinions and 
the warmth of her zeal, she soon became ill at ease in the 
land of her birth. So, with her mother's approval, she 
resolved to face all perils, and to return and share the 
fortunes of the Confederacy. Taking her little boy she 
set out for " Dixie," and, after many trials, arrived at 
Eichmond, Virginia, just after the battle of Bull Run. 
Here she was kindly cared for by some old acquaintances, 
among whom was Commodore Maury, a friend of her 
family, and who had dedicated his " Geography of the 
Sea" to her uncle, George Manning, of New York. 
Through his introduction she made many dear friends 
among the ladies of Richmond, some of whom pressed 
her to come and dwell with them; but she neither 
needed nor was seeking roof and shelter. If she so 
wished, she might have found them with her husband's 
relatives in Alabama. What she felt the want of was 
occupation, — work in behalf of the cause to which, in 
spite of selfish reasons, she felt impelled to devote herself 

In order that she might have this work, and at the 
same time be where assistance could be rendered her 
husband and friends at the front, she asked to be ap- 
pointed a hospital matron. 

Commodore Maury for some time protested against 



A WOMAN'S RECORD. 331 

such a step, saying that she was too young, and had 
been too tenderly raised; but she persisted, so he finally 
yielded, as appears from the following letter : 

" Richmond, August 10, 1861. 
"My dear Fanny, — ^You bear the heart of a true and 
tender woman, in the breast of a noble patriot. I will 
no longer oppose your wishes, and mean to help you all 
I can. Command me at any and all times. 
" Yours truly, 

" Matthew F. Maury." 

At first she assisted in a private hospital maintained 
by some Eichmond ladies, who, by turns, sent in all the 
food required. Permission was applied for to enter the 
Louisiana hospital, but it was refused. 

In a few weeks she was appointed matron-in-charge 
of the Second Alabama Hospital, with liberty to receive 
a limited number of her friends, who might be taken 
care of there. 

Soon after she entered upon her regular duties the sick 
and wounded began to pour in, and from this time for- 
ward she was constantly employed till within a few 
weeks of the battle of Shiloh. With the departure of 
her husband's command to Tennessee, she was disposed 
for a like change of field-duty. She now left Eichmond, 
and for a few weeks only was occupied with a visit to 
her husband's relatives. Then she resumed her hospital 
work at Gainesville, Alabama. 

Her subsequent career is best related in the following 
letters from surgeons of high rank, and whose official 
positions gave them abundant opportunities of estima- 
ting the work she performed and the strength of the 
spirit which animated her. The letters were called 
from their authors in the spring of 1883, nearly twenty 



332 MEMORIES. 

years after the close of the war, upon the occasion of a 
musical and literary entertainment being tendered Mrs. 
Beers by her soldier friends in New Orleans. So pro- 
found was the gratitude for her former services to sick 
and wounded Confederates, that all the military organi- 
zations exerted themselves to make it a success, and at 
the meeting of the members of the " Army of Tennes- 
see," complimentary resolutions were passed, and the 
letters read. 

" New Orleans, March 8, 1883. 
" Judge Eogers ; 

" Dear Sir, — Understanding that the members of the 
'Army of Tennessee' have tendered Mrs. F. A. Beers 
an entertainment, I feel anxious to aid in securing its 
success. 

" I am well qualified to testify to the valuable and dis- 
interested services which this lady rendered in the Con- 
federate hospital during the late war. In truth, aside 
from officers and soldiers who may be now living and still 
holdino; in remembrance the kind and skilful nursincr 
which she gave them personally while wounded or sick, 
I know of only four persons whose positions made them 
fully cognizant of the heroism, devotion, and self-sacri- 
fice which she brought to the discharge of her duties. 
These are, first. Dr. T. H. McAllister, now of Marion, 
Alabama, in whose admirably-conducted hospital she 
was the only matron during the greater part of the 
war ; second. Dr. C. B. Gamble, now of Baltimore ; 
third. Dr. S. H. Stout, now of Eoswell, Georgia, medical 
director of hospitals of the Army of Tennessee ; fourth, 
the writer. 

" I know that I can venture to speak in behalf of 
these gentlemen and for myself in declaring that the 
skill and efficiency with which she nursed and fed our 
sick and wounded soldiers, and the coolness and bravery 



A WOMAN'S RECORD. 333 

with which she faced danger in discharge of these du- 
ties do merit suitable recognition from the survivors of 
those rapidly-diminishing numbers who fought under 
the Confederate flag. 

" Yery respectfully, 

" S. M. Bemiss, M.D., 
" Late Assistant Medical Director and Medical Director 

of Hospitals, Army of Tennessee." 

"Marion, Alabama, March 11, 1883. 

" De. S. Bemiss, New Orleans, — Having heard an en- 
tertainment was to be given in your city on March 29 
for the benefit of Mrs. Fannie A. Beers, I feel it to be 
my duty, as well as pleasure, to add my testimony to 
her worth and to the part she played in the late war. 

" During the three years she was with me as a Con- 
federate hospital matron, she conducted herself as a 
high-toned lady in the strictest sense of the term, and 
to every word I may say of her there are hundreds, 
yea, thousands, of Confederate soldiers scattered all 
over the South who would cheerfully testify to some 
facts if opportunity were offered them. 

"After the battles of Shiloh and Farmington, and 
then the evacuation of Corinth, I was ordered to estab- 
lish hospitals (in June or July, 1862) for the sick and 
wounded of General Bragg's armj^, at Gainesville, Ala- 
bama. With scarcely any hospital supplies I began 
preparations for the same, and in answer to a card pub- 
lished in the Selma (Alabama) papers, asking for sup- 
plies and a suitable lady to act as matron, she promptly 
responded. At first sight her youthful, delicate, refined, 
and lady-like appearance, showing she had never been 
accustomed to any hardships of life, caused me to doubt 
her capacity to fill the position of matron. 

" She said she desired to do something while her hus- 



334 MEMORIES. 

band was at the front defending our Southern homes. 
I soon found what she lacked in age and experience ; 

was made up in patriotism, devotion to the Southern | 

cause, constant vigilance, and tenderness in nursing the [ 

Confederate sick and wounded. I soon learned to ap- ? 

preciate her services and to regard her as indispen- . 

sable. -i 

" She remained with me as hospital matron while ^ 

I was stationed at Gainesville, Alabama, Einggold, $ 

Georgia, Newnan, Georgia, and Fort Valley, Georgia, 
embracing a period of over three years. She was all \ 

the time chief matron, sometimes supervising more than \ 

one thousand beds filled with sick and wounded, and J 

never did any woman her whole duty better. Through ji 

heat and cold, night and day, she was incessant in her 
attentions and watchfulness over the Confederate sick 
and wounded, many times so worn down by fatigue 
that she was scarcely able to walk, but never faltering 
in the discharge of her duties. 

" At one time, while at Newnan, Georgia, the Federal 
forces under General McCook were advancing on the 
town, and it became necessary for every available man 
— post officers, surgeons, convalescents, and nurses — to 
leave the town and wards in order to repel the invading 
enemy. I was much afi'ected while hurrying from ward 
to ward giving general orders about the care of the sick 
during my absence in the fight, to see and hear the 
maimed begging Mrs. Beers to remain with them, and . 

they could well testify to how well she acted her part M 

in remaining with them and caring for their many 
wants, while the able-bodied men of all grades went to 
battle for all they held dear. j 

" At the same time, all the citizens and officers' wives 
sought refuge in some place of safety. After the battle, 
which resulted in victory to the Confederates, and the 



A WOMAN'S RECORD. 335 

wounded of both armies were brought to our wards, and 
the Federal prisoners (about one thousand) to the town, 
her attention and kindness was, if possible, doubly in- 
creased, extending help and care as well to the boys in 
blue as to those in gray. In her missions of mercy she 
made no distinction. There she was daily seen with her 
servant going into the prison of the Federal soldiers 
with bandages and baskets of provisions to minister to 
the wants of such as were slightly wounded or needed 
some attention. Many a Federal officer and soldier 
would doubtless bear willing testimony to these acts of 
unselfish kindness. 

" While Atlanta was invested and being shelled she, 
contrary to my advice and urgent remonstrance, took 
boxes of provisions to her husband and comrades in the 
trencbes when the shot and shell fell almost like hail. 
"While at Fort Yalley her courage and patriotism were 
put to the severest test in an epidemic of smallpox. 

" When all who could left, she remained and nursed 
the Confederate soldiers with this loathsome disease. I 
desire to say she was a voluntary nurse, and did all her 
work from patriotism alone, until it became necessary 
for her to remain as a permanent attache of the hos- 
pitals that her name should go upon the pay-rolls. 
After that she spent her hard earnings in sending 
boxes to the front and dispensing charity upon worthy 
objects immediately under her care. 

" She was with me as voluntary nurse, or matron, for 
more than three years, and during that time she con- 
ducted herself in every respect so as to command the 
respect and esteem of all with whom she came in con- 
tact, from the humblest private to the highest in com- 
mand, and the citizens of every place where she was 
stationed gave her a hearty welcome, and invited her 
into the best of society. 



336 MEMORIES. 

'' Feeling this much was due to one who suffered so 
many privations for 'Dear Lost Cause/ I send it to 
you for you to use as you think proper in promoting her 
good. You know me well, and can vouch for anything I 
have said. Yery respectfully, 

"Wm. T. McAllister, M.D., 

" Late Surgeon P. A. 0. S." 

After such testimonials of worth and work, anything 
more would seem out of place. Yet we cannot refrain 
from mentioning some of the sayings of soldiers who, 
though forgotten, yet recall her with affection for the 
tender nursing received at her hands. Says one, " She 
was the moving spirit in the hospital, officially and prac- 
tically. The first object of her ministrations was to 
relieve suffering and save life. The next was to fit 
men for service. When health was restored she would 
brook no shirking, but with the power of kindly words 
impelled patients to the field. Her zeal sprang from 
profound convictions of the righteousness of the Cause, 
and with the vehemence of sincerity she wielded a great 
influence over those who had recovered under her care." 

Another declares that he has seen her " not only bath- 
ing the heads of soldiers, but washing their feet." 

So the evidence accumulates, and it is no wonder she 
is called by many " The Florence Nightingale of the 
South." 



THE END. 



THOMPSON IMPROVED BUILDING PAPER. 

A Substitute for Plastering and for Wall Paper and Canvas. 

In use from the Atlantic to the Rocky Mountains. 

No Experiment, but an Established Success. 

nOOFIlVO FELT, ROOFING PITCH, 
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Metal Shingles in Iron and Tin, Painted and Galvanized. 

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Samples of Paper and Circulars sent on application. Address 

EDWAK^D TH[03J[PS0]V, 

112 and 114 Poydras Street, NEA^ ORLEANS, LA. 

THE SOUTH ILLUSTRATED. 

130 Gravier St., New Orleans, La. 

A. TWE]VTV-I*AGE M:0]VTmL.Y. 

Published under the auspices of leading Business Men and Capitalists 
of the State. 

H. H. BAKER, Managing Editor. GEO. MOORMAN, Associate Editor. 

I>evoted to the Development of the South, particularly 
Ijouisiana. Superbly Illustrated, 

SUBSCRIPTION, $1.00 PER YEAR. 



Every issue replete with information pertaining to the resources of the 
Southern States, their unmatched advantage of climate and soil, adaptation 
to a wide range of agricult\iral products, tropical fruits, etc. Vast and widely- 
distributed mineral and Avooded wealth, and the late marked impetus on 
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Rates for advertisements and subscription furnished promptly on applica- 
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130 ORA-ATIER STREET. 

A. K. MILLER & CO., 

AGENTS FOR 

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Star," "Red Star," "Allan," "National," "Guion," 

"Hamburg," and "Italian" Lines of Steamers. 

All Classes of Passage to and from all Places in Europe and 

America, via New Orleans, New York, Baltimore, 

and Philadelphia. 

SIGHT DRAFTS ON ALL CITIES IN EUROPE. 

37 CaroiKielet Street, ISgw Orleans, X^a<. 

1 



the: 



Liverpool and London and Globe 

INSURANCE COMPANY. 



Fire Assets $15,014,725.47 

Total Fire Liabilities .... 5,614,692.11 



Surplus for Policy Holders . $9,400,033.36 

Assets in United States . . . $6,639,780.55 
Liabilities in United States . 3,562,242.30 



Surplus in United States . . $3,077,538.25 



HENRY V. OGDEN, CLARENCE F. LOW, 

Resident Secretary. Assistant Secretary. 



LOSSES CASHED UPON ADJUSTMENT WITHOUT 
DISCOUNT. 



NEW ORLEANS. 

John I. Adams. W. H. Renaud. J. G. Ong. F. A. Bonito. 

JOHN I. ADAMS & CO., 

l^liolesale Grocers 

AND 

DEALERS IN PROVISIONS, WINES, AND LIQUORS, 

Kos, 4:8, 4:5 f and 47 Peters Street 

(foemerly new levee), 

Coffee, Stigar, MolaBses, and Rice NEW ORLEANS 

a Specialtyi 



l^uilding Specialties, 

63 and 69 Baronne St., New Orleans, La. 

Terra-Cotta of Every Deserijttioii. 
Stained anil Decortttive Glass. Fine Httrd-Wood Mantels. 

. Olasied and, Encatistic Tiles. 

F. IV. Mtevoes A Co.'s Paints and Varnishes. 



SEND FOR CATALOGUES AND ESTIMATES. 

HI. IP. BTJOKIXjE-Y", 

No. 8 Canif^ Street, New Orleans, La., 

HAS ON HAND A FINE STOCK OF 

^Waltham IJVatclies, 

AT LOW PRICES. 

Also SILVERWARE, JEWELRY, SPECTACLES. 



Watch and Jewelry Kepairing a Specialty. 

:El.T.ai3LJiJR.lD -Ml. OlNTCa-, 

02 an€l 9J ]f£figa;^iiie St., Netv Orleans, 

Paints, Building Materials, Naval Stores, Oils. 

White and Red Lead, Nails, Fire Brick, 

Mixed and Dry Colors, Lime, Sand, 

Window Glass, Cement, Hair, 

Varnishes, Glues, Plaster Paris, 

Brushes, Etc. Fire Clay and Fire Tiles. 



Burning and IMactiinery Oils and Axle Orease. 



New Orleans National Bank 

(UNITED STATES DEPOSITORY), 

Corner of Camp and. Common Streets. 

Capital »200,000 

Surplus 400,000 

Undivided Profits . . . 65,000 



$665,000 

A. Baldwin, President S. Katz, Vice-President. Wm. Palfrey, Cashier. 

3 



JOHNSON IRON V^^ORKS, 

Julia St., from Delta to "Water, 

Lewis Johnson, ) „ 

HENRY D.STEASNS.r^P™'"'"- NEW ORLEANS. 

TULANE UNIVERSITY OF LOUISIANA. 



Higli Scbool, Collesre, Uuiversity, I^a^vv, 
and medical Departments. 



Hon. Randall Lee Gibson, U.S. Senator, President of Board of Administrators. 
William Preston Johnston, LL.D., President of University. 



Forty -seven Professors ttntl Instructors. 



High School. Three Classes— Preparatory, Intermediate, and Sub-Freshman. 
Four Parallel Courses. Drawing and Manual Training two hours daily 
for all classes. 

College Courses.— Classical, Literary, Natural Science, Mathematical, Me- 
chanical, and Commercial. 

University Course leads to degrees of Master of Arts, and further study to 
degree of Doctor of Philosophy. 

Law and Medical Departments thoroughly organized, with efficient Facul- 
ties and large attendance of students from city and country and adjoin- 
ing States. 



H. S0PHIE NEWeeMB MEMORIALS CeLLEGE 

FOB YOUNG WOMEN, 

Under Charge of the Administrators of the University. 



Catalogues containing announcement of all departments may be obtained 
upon application to 

Secretary Tulane University, 

New Orleans, La. 

A. B. GRISV/OLD & CO., 

Corner Canal and Royal Streets, NEW ORLEANS, 

IMPORTERS OF 

Waiches, Diamonds, Jewelry, and Silverware. 

4 



JNO. T. MOORB, JR., & CO., 

WHOLESALE GROCERS 

AND COMMISSION MERCHANTS, 
Nos. 37, 39, AND 41 TCHOUPITOULAS STREET, 

P. 0. Box 1806. Telephone 1150. Between Poydras and Gravier Streets. 

WAREHOUSE, No. 14, NATCHEZ STREET, 

IVE'W Oiri^EA^S, I.A. 

CASH ADVANCES MADE. 

S. JAMISON'S SON, 

No. OO Oarondelet St., INe-vr Orleans, 

IMPORTER /frJQ DEALER IN 

English and German Portland Cements, 

KOSENDALE AND WESTEEN CEMENTS, 

Marble Dust, Sand, Plaster, Hair, Lime, and Fire Bricks, 

Fertilizers, Fire Clay, and Tiles, 

Laths, Rosin, Pitch, and Building Materials. 

OILS A SPECFALTY. 

CORRESPONDENCE SOLICITED. 

THOS. FAWCETT & SONS, 

Branch of Thos. Fawcett & Sons, Miners and Shippers of Coal, 
77 Water Street, Fittshtirgh, Pa., 

DEALERS IN 

PITTSBURGH, ANTHRACITE, iP CANNEL 

COAL AND COKE. 

OIPIFICIB, 166 :E^O■2■3D:E^J^S STI^:BET, 
IVEW ORL.EAIVS. 

Yard, on Levee, Head Rotin St. Telephone 842. 

Families, Presses, Factories, Plantations, etc., Supplied at Lowest 

Market Rates. COAL IN CASKS FOR SHIPMENT. 

5 



^^^. W. HLA-T^KINS. Manager, 

DEALER IN 



XV-A. Xj 31. I>-A. £> £3 FL S, 

Window Shades, Hollands, Cornices, Cornice Poles, 
Room Mouldings, Etc., 

NEW ORLEANS. 



t_g^SAMPLES MAILED ON APPLICATION. ^v-J 

JOHN H. MURPHY, 
Copper, Brass, and Iron Works, 

MANUFACTURER OF 

SUGAR MACHINERY, 
Nos. 123 to 131 IV[aga.2;ine Street, 

CORNER GIROD, 

PIKIJV Oiri.EAJ«JS, I^OVISIABiA. 

AaGUST P. Si/ANGERUP, Supeiintendiiig Engineer. Will R Taylor, Business Mauager. 

■Waltke a. Taylor, Mechanical Engineer and Drauglitsnian. 

TAYLOR BROTHERS & CO. 

(Successors to Wm. \V. Taylor), 
Contracting antl Jflannfactfti'iiiff 

7BTHCHINISTS HND ENGINEERS 

Will prepare plans, speciflcations, and estimates, and contract for the manufacture, 
erv-'ction, and repairing of 

Engines, Boilers, Bagasse Burners, Steam and Vacuum Pumps, Sugar 

Mills, Vacuum Pans, Double and Triple Effects. PiUer Presses, 

Steam Ti'ains, arid General Sugar Machinery. 

SOLE BUILDERS OF 

Taylor's Patent Steam Traps. Taylor's Improved Bagasse Burner.^, Taylor's Patent Bagasse Feeders. 

Manufacturers' Agents for Guild and Garrison's Boiler, Feed, Tank, and Vacuum Pumps. 
Our shops are new, and equipped with new and improved machinery, enabling- us to do first-class work. 

Office and Works, Constance and St. Joseph Streets, New Orleans. 
Telephone 378. 

crosEii=>H: J. h:oofe:r., 

S^I^AiItlONBr?, 
No. 60 Carondelet St., Nev^ Orleans. 

SPECI ALTIES: 

Prinfing and Blank Book Manufacturing. 

Write for quotations ; it will cost you only one cent and may save you a dollar. 

6 



REYNOLDS IRON WORKS, 

MANUFACTURERS OF 

Tlie Celebrated Reynolds's Patent Cotton Presses 

Agrricultural Iniplenieiits, 

MACHINERY, CASTINGS OF ALL KINDS, ETC., 
Cor. Delord and Fulton Sts., New Orleans, La. 



THOS. O'CONXOn, J^r., Mnnaaer 



LOUISIANA BREWING CO. 

OK NE'^V ORI^EANS. 
Brewery anil Offlce, JacJison anil Tchoiipitoulas Sts, 

telephone; No. 822. 

P. W. DiELMANN, President. J. Hassinger, Vice-President. 

Fkank Fehr, Superintendent. H. Engelhardt, Secretary. 

BOARD OF DIRECTORS. 

P. W. DiELMANN. J. Hassinger. F. Raquet. H. Armbruster. 

Albert P. Noll. Frank Fehr. M. Vonderbank. 

Frank Walker. H. J, Leovy, Jr. 

Frank Walker & Co., 

ffllU Builders and Contractors, 

IIT TOHOUFITOUIvAS SX., NEW OrI^KANS. 



RICE MILL WORK A SPECIALTY. 



MONTGOMERY U. S. BONDED WAREHOUSES, 

Fulton and Peters, 'bet-ween Julia and St. Joseph Streets. 

CHHS. H. THIEL. 

I^t'ojtvietot', 

TU^KiN Opf^iob, lis F^ULTON Street. 

NEW OK.I^KA]5«S. 

Telephone 926. Insurance A 1. 



CRESCENT SUGAR AND RICE WAREHOUSES, 

Commerce and Tolioupitoulas, bet, Julia and St. Joseph Sts. 
7 



YALE & BOV/LINO, 

WHOLESALE 

Dry Goods 5^ Notions 

17, 19, and 21 Magazine St. 

AND 

88 Common St., 
NKW ORIvKANS, IvA. 

The Louisiana National Bank, 

OF NEW ORLEANS. 



Capital $500,000.00 

Surplus 200,000.00 

Undivided Profits 140,000.00 



$840,000.00 



R. M. Walmsley, a. Luria, Leon F. Janin, 

President. Vice-President. Cashier. 

WHOLESALE AND RETAIL GROCER, 

Importer, Wine and Liquor Dealer, 

2S3 rro 227 MKI.POMEN^K STREET, 

JBAMOXXE STUEET SIDE OF nSYA.nES MABKET, 



JNO. P. RICHARDSON, 

Drv GooiDS T^No Notions 

CORNER 

IVEaga:zine and Conamon Sts., 
NEW ORLEANS, LA. 



p. A. BARKER. BARKER. & PESCfJO, p.f.pescud 

River, IVtarine, and. Life Insurance Agents, 

No. 58 Carondelet Street, New Orleans, La., 

RKHRE8BNT FOIXOWING COMPANIES, VIZ. I 



Assets. 

JJtna Ins. Co., Hartford $9,568,839 

Home Ins. Co., New York 

Hartford Fire Ins. Co., Hartford. 
Springfield I'iie and Marine Ins 
Massach 



7,808,711 

5,0J5,916 

Co., 

3,044,915 



Assets. 

Lion Fire Ins. Co., London $4,504,155 

Sun Fire Office. London 1,706,268 

Commercial Ins Co., California 500. 000 

Employers Liability (Accident), London. 763 078 
Metropolitan Hlatei Glass Ins. Co., N.Y., 220,000 



P. O. Sox iikY. LossBB Adjusted AND Paid in New Orlkans, La, 



E3. O. 

Carriage Repository, 

Bicycles, Tricycles, Velocipedes, and Lawn Tennis, 

Baby Carriages, Harness, Whips, Robes, and Carriage 

Trimmings, 

NBW ORI.BA1SS, I.A. 

JOSEPH SCHWARTZ, 

Nos. 41, 43, 45, and 47 Perdido St. 

THE LARGEST 

Carriage and Wagon 

Repository and Manufactory 

in the South, 

And Dealer in Carriage, Wagon, and 

Cane Cart Materials. 

Agent for the Celebrated Tennessee 

and Studebaker Farm Wagons, 

and Coldwater Road Cart. 

P.O. Box 3365. NEW ORLEANS. 




I. H. STAUFFER. 



B. F. ESHLHMAN. 



WALTER R. STAUFFER. 



STAUFFER, ESHI.EMA1V & CO., 

Successors to Stavffer, Macready & Co , 

IMPORTERS AND DEALERS IN 



Outlery, Guns, Pistols, Iron, Nails, Tin and I^eaded JPlUtes, 
Metals, Oils, Paints, and, Cofdage. 

^GtR.ICULTURA.L IMPLEIVtENTS. 

No. 103 Chambers St., New York. 

Nos. II to 23 Dorsier, 52 and 54 Customhouse Streets, 

and 71 Canal Street, 

iVEW OTILEIAIVS. 

M. SORIA, Pre3. JNO S. RAINEY. Vice-Pres F. W RAINEY. Seo. and TREAa 

STANDARD GHANO AND CHEMICAL MANUFACTURING CO., 

Successors to Sterns Fertilizer and Chemical Manufacturing Co. 

Uanafactnrers of Super-Phosphates, Pure Qround Eone. Animal Charcoal, and Chemicals. 

Special Fertilizers for Cotton. Sugar, Grain, Fruit, and Vegetables. 

Highest Standard Guaranteed. 

P. O. Drawer 442. 14 Utiiott St., New Orleans. 



Ernest Miltenberger. 

Prksidewt. 



H. GALLT, 

Vicb-Prbstdbnt. 



SCOTT MCGEHEE. 

Skcrbtary. 



Southern Insurance Company 

OF NEW ORLEANS, 



CASH CA.I»ITAI^ - 
A.SSETIS, JAIV. 1, 1888 



S300.000 
44:0,000 



CRESCENT INSURANCE COMPANY. 

Incorporated as a Mutual Company in 1849. 
Keorganized as a Stock Company in 1880. 
CASH <DA.V*I^JLI^ $400,000. 



Mtta JPaia over Ten ana One-Walf Millions for Jjosses 
since 184:9, 



ANNUAL AND TERM POLICIES ISSUED ON DESIRABLE FIRE BUSINESS. 

W. K. LYMAN, Pres't. JOSEPH BCWLING, Vice-Pres't. 
CHAS. E. BICE, Secretary. 

ESTABLISHED 187S. 



A. J. GIURANOVIGH^ 

Jeweler and Practical Diamond Setter, 

126 ROYAL STREET, 

Between St. Louis and Tonlonse Sts. NEW ORLEANS, LA. 

Nine Years with Mr. I. C. LEVI, New Orleans, La. 
Three Years with Mr. VERAX, Paris, France. 

BOOTS .A-IN-ID SITOES. 

••• 

E. MARQufezE &l CO., 

MANUFACTURERS, BOSTON, MASS^ 

SOUTHERN JOBBING HOUSE, 

NEUV ORI.KAXS, I.A. 

E. F. BRAKENRIDGE, 

DEALER IN 

Pine and Cypress Lands, 

No. 20 ST. CHARLES STREET, 

NEW ORLEANS, LA. 

10 



R. J. DO^A^NEY, 



Oontracts taken in this and all adjoining States. 

SEND £^OR PRICKS AND ESTIMATES. 
OFFICE, 109 ST. CI1ARI.ES ST., 

P.O. Box 3106. NEW ORLEANS, LA. 

A. McDERMOTT, 

MANUFACTURER OF 

ARTIFICIAL LIMBS, 

TRUSSES, AND SURGICAL APPLIANCES, 

Crutches and Elastic Hosiery, 

200 St. €Jtt.arleSf hetivcen Julid and, St, JToseph Streets, 

NEW ORLEANS, LA. 

A. BALDWIN &, CO.~ 

74 Canal St., New Orleans, and 77 and 79 Broad St., New York. 

91. 93, AND 95 COMJMON STREET, 

NEW ORLEANS, LA. 

Importers and Dealers in Foreign and Domestic 



CUTLERY, GUNS, PISTOLS, 
Barbed Fence Wire, and Agricultural Implements. 



113 CHNHL STREET, 

New Orlkans, La. 



Crayon, with Frame, $16.00. 

Pictures on Watch Dials a Specialty. 

Imitation Porcelain Picture, with Frame, $1.50. 
A Good Photograph at $1.50 per Dozen. 

G-ive its a call. No trouble to sliotv specimens and, prices. 

CORRESPONDENCE SOLICITED. 
11 



A. T. TERRY. E. J. MACK 

XERRY & MACK, 

MEN'S FURNISHING GOODS, 

No. 9 Carondelet Street (neat' Canal), 

NEW ORLEANS. 

O. W. DUNBAR'S SOIVS, 

Packers of Semi-Tropical Products, 

Potted Shrimp, Green Turtle, Preserved Figs, Orange Preserve, 
Figs in Cordial, Okra, etc. 

Manufacturers of French Cordials and. Frttit Syrups. 

Office and Salesroom, No. 3 Tchoupitoulas Street, NEW ORLEANS. 

Office, 71 Carondelet St., "Warehouse, 487 and 489 Calliope St., 
NEW OR-LT^AIVS. 



Corrugated Iron, Steel JVire Nails, Srieks, Satiil, Zdme, Cement, 

Piaster, Bair, and I^atlis, Ready -Mixed 

Paints, Setver Pipe. 

SOLICITS COUNTRY ORDERS. 

Copper, Tin, £iii<l Sliect-Iron Worker, 

192 ST. CHARLES STREET, NEW ORLEANS, LA. 
LEMLEY'S PATENT RAIN-WATER CUT-OFF, 

TJIE OXIjY best. 

ROOKING, GUTTERING, SLATING, ETC., ETC. 
Kepairs Kxecuted with Dispatch. 

BEia-G-EE, I=A.TEJSrT OTEIsT-IT'OOT G-UTTEI^,. 
12 



ANNOUNCEMENT FOR 1888. 



The complete novels that have already been arranged for to appear in 

LippiNGOTTS Monthly Magazine 

for 1888 are as follows: 

"CHECK AND COUNTER- CHECK." By Brander Matthews and 
George H. Jessop (January). 

"THE SPELIi OF HOME." After the German. By Mrs. A. L. 
WiSTER (February). 

"HONORED IN THE BREACH." By JULIA Magruder (March). 

"THE QUICK OR THE DEAD?" By Am^LIE Rives (April). 




'his series of novels, it will readily be seen, will be of great literary 
value and interest. Miss Am^lie Rives has excited universal ad- 
miration by the short stories and poems that she has contributed 
to current magazines, and a novel from her pen will be eagerly 
welcomed by a wide circle. Edgar 8altus, a brilliant young author, 
whose " Mr.* Incoul's Misadventure" was excellent in itself and 
gave promise of still more brilliant performance in the future, is another 
rising name. William H. Bishop and Brander Matthews have an established 
position among contemporary novelists, and the new novels from their pen 
will be equal to any of their former work. Mrs. A. L. Wister's adaptations are 
known to all readers of American fiction. Miss Julia Magruder, whose 
"Across the Chasm" and "At Anchor" (in LippincotCs Magazine) were hailed 
as among the most charming of modern Southern novels, is another writer 
with an audience already created. Miss M. Eliott Seawell is the author of 
" Maid Marian," a delightful little extravaganza in ihe December, 1886, num- 
ber of LippincoW s, and the novel which she has written for this magazine 
will add another star to the galaxy of Southern novelists. 

In addition, Albion W. Tourgee will contribute a notable series of stories, 
illustrating the interesting and excitint- phases of the legal profession, under 
the general title of " With Gauge & Swailow." Each story will be complete 
in itself, though all will revolve around a common centre of interest. 

Stories, essays, and poems may be expected from AmtJlie Rives, Edgar 
Fawcett, Thomas Nelson Page, H. H. Bovesen, Joaquin Miller. Walt Whitman, 
Will Carleton, M. G. McClelland, Helen G. Cone, Mrs. S. M. B. Piatt, J. J. Piatt, 
C. L. Hildreth, Will H. Hayne, Lucy C. Lillie, Edith M. Thomas, and many 
others ; and autobiographical articles, dealing with interesting phases of their 
career, from Lotta, Fanny Davenport. H. H. Boyesen, Edgar Saltus, Clara 
Barton, Belva Lockwood, Frances E. Willard, etc., etc. 

A number of ideas new to periodical literature will be exploited during the 
year. For example, the February number will be written entirely by women 
for women, and will contain a novel by Mrs. Wister ; a novelette by Miss Amelie 
Rives ; poems by Mrs. Piatt, Helen G. Cone, Edith M. Thomas, and Ella Wheeler- 
Wilcox; autobiographical sketches by Belva Lockwood, Fanny Davenport, etc.; 
and articles of greneral interest by other famous women of the country. 



Subscription per A.nnutn, $3.00. Single Nuniher, 25 Cents. 



J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers, 

716 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 

13 



KIRE. RIVER, MARINE. 



Incorporated April, 1857. 
Reorgani^zed April, 18SS. 



HOPB 

Insurance Company 

NEW ORLEANS, 
No. 188 Oravler Street. 



Cash Capital ... 

$250,000.00 

Assets . 

• • • • . 403,766.98 



PROGRESSIVE MD LIBERAL^ 



J. A. CHALARON, President. MAURICE STERN, Vice-President. 

LOUIS BARNETT, Secretary. 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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